


So He Won't Break

by reallooney



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anxiety Attacks, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Whump, Hurt/Comfort, Injured Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Jaskier is a Good Boyfriend, Jaskier | Dandelion Has Anxiety, M/M, Modern AU, Protective Jaskier | Dandelion, Rugby, Sickfic, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-13
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:34:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 33
Words: 35,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28046253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reallooney/pseuds/reallooney
Summary: Geralt gets injured during a rugby game, but pushes himself to keep playing anyway. Luckily Jaskier is there to deal with the aftermath.But when faced with sickness, and a vengeful rival team captain, there's only so much his well meaning boyfriend can do.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 201
Kudos: 345





	1. Chapter 1

Game day. Jaskier sat in the stands, as close to the pitch as he could manage, squinting and hoping the sun would move behind the clouds before the match started. He didn’t love giving up his Saturdays, but he’d be damned if he missed one of Geralt’s rugby matches, even if it meant getting up early to drive four hours to watch an away game like he’d done today. 

The teams were milling about on the pitch, waiting for the sir to come out for the coin toss. Geralt was easy enough to spot, his stark white hair setting him apart from the rest of the players. No matter how many times he asked, Geralt had never let him braid it back for game day. Instead he chose to wear it half up, spitting in the face of practicality but looking glorious nevertheless. 

Jaskier thanked God every week for how his boyfriend looked in his rugby uniform, the tight jersey hugging his muscular chest and broad shoulders, the shorts showing more thigh than anyone had a right to show. Jaskier watched as he walked to midfield, meeting the sir and the opposing team’s captain. The coin toss went quickly and without any fuss, and then Geralt was turning around, his voice booming as he called for his team to set up in a position to receive the ball. 

All of the annoyance Jaskier felt about having to get up early to spend several hours on the road to get here disappeared as he watched Geralt play. He’d been the star forward for their university’s team since his freshman year, and had since climbed the ranks to captaincy. In the first half hour of the game he saw Geralt score two tries—one single handedly—win a handful of rucks, and make countless tackles. Even so the game was close. They’d secured the lead at the beginning of the half, but the other team showed no sign of giving up. Now with one play left in the first half Geralt’s team was down by twelve points. No problem. They could take back the lead with two more tries. And Geralt had the ball. Jaskier held his breath as Geralt carried it down the field. 

He was on the edge of his seat watching Geralt make his way down the field, avoiding two tackles, and dropping a shoulder to knock a third opponent to the ground. Jaskier was shouting himself raw at this point, on his feet and cheering along with the few other fans who’d made the trip out for the away match. Twenty meters. Ten Meters. He was so close to the try zone now, a few of his teammates behind him ready to ruck if the other team’s last line of defense was enough to stop him. 

No way they get him down now, Jaskier thought. As if on cue the other team’s captain made his approach, ready to try and stop Geralt from making his third try of the game, double teaming the hit with another one of the forwards from his team. Jaskier’s stomach dropped. 

The whole crowd fell silent. Usually the other team’s spectators would be up and cheering if they watched their players stop a try so close to the line, but not now. Not with a hit like that. 

He ploughed into Geralt, wrapping his arms around his thighs and lifting his feet off the ground as the other player hit him in the chest in an attempt to rip the ball from his arms. 

The sir was blowing his whistle before Geralt hit the ground. Illegal tackle. Hips over shoulders. Unsafe. He stepped in front of the offending player as one of Geralt’s teammates tried to step in and take a swing at him. Nobody liked to see a dirty hit like that. 

Red card. Penalty try. Half. 

Both teams jogged to the sidelines as half time was called, but Geralt remained on the ground, laying on his back, unmoving. 

Jaskier held his breath, his heart beating far too fast as he strained to hear what the few remaining people on the field were saying. They’d brought a medic onto the field along with Geralt’s coach, and the two of them and the sir huddled around Geralt, obscuring him from view and talking in voices too low for Jaskier to hear. 

***

A few things went through Geralt’s mind before he hit the ground. First was surprise. He was used to being one of the biggest players on the field, so he wasn’t accustomed to being lifted off his feet—especially not hips over shoulders. His second thought was a bit more practical. He needed to make sure to keep his head up. If his head hit the ground it was all over. A concussion would ensure he wouldn’t set foot on the pitch for weeks and that was something he simply couldn’t afford. He tensed his muscles, bracing for impact as his body closed the wide gap between himself and the ground. 

A strangled cry escaped his lips involuntarily, eclipsed by the blowing of a whistle. He didn’t have the mental capacity to wonder what the call was though; a wave of pain radiated from where his back hit the ground. He shut his eyes tight and his body went limp. 

He was vaguely aware of a commotion happening above him, but whatever it was couldn’t be farther from a priority now. He reached blindly for his mouthguard, pulling it from his mouth and dropping it on the grass beside him. The fall had knocked the breath from his lungs, leaving him gasping for air, and the mouthguard threatened to gag him. He needed to breathe. He needed to slow his heart rate. He needed to open his eyes. Someone was standing above him now—no doubt someone who was already thinking about pulling him out for the rest of the game. He needed to let them know that wasn’t an option. 

“I’m fine,” he managed to choke out, still trying to get a few good lungfuls of air. His coach and the medic were kneeling above him, both looking far too concerned. “I’m okay, really. I just got the wind knocked out of me.” He tried to sit up only to be met with a hand on his shoulder from his coach and a stern look. 

“Don’t sit up yet,” the medic instructed. 

They were worried about a neck injury, or a concussion or something, and Geralt would rather die than be carried off the field on a stretcher with a neck brace on. 

“Seriously,” he grumbled. “I’m fine.” He pushed his coach’s hand away, but didn’t get up yet, knowing that being impertinent would put him on the bench just as quickly as an injury would.

It took a good minute or two of answering questions, and proving he could move his head and neck before they let him get up, insisting on helping him stand even though Geralt knew he’d be perfectly capable on his own. He walked off the field on his own though, not wanting the spectators to think he needed help—mostly not wanting Jaskier to worry. He hated to think how scared his boyfriend must be by now. 

Once on the sidelines, Geralt tried to join his team as they strategized for the second half, but the medic pulled him aside, apparently not finished with him yet. 

He started asking more questions, and it quickly became apparent he was fishing for a concussion diagnosis. 

“My back hit the ground, not my head,” he explained, grabbing a water bottle and taking a long drink. “I’m fine.” Whether it was his explanation, or the glare Geralt gave him, the medic seemed to agree with this sentiment. 

“If you start to feel off, don’t be afraid to leave the field. Your safety is the first priority.” 

Geralt didn’t respond. Now that he was finally free, he didn’t want to waste any more time. There were still a few more minutes left before the second half, and Geralt needed to go tell whatever freshman was about to sub in for him to get back on the bench. 

“Geralt! Are you alright? That looked like it hurt.” 

It had hurt. It still hurt. But he couldn’t have his teammates worrying. They needed to focus. The pain didn’t concern him now—the scoreboard did. He could play through a little discomfort, but a loss for them at this point in the season would be difficult to come back from. 

He was met with a chorus of such sentiments, and while he’d normally appreciate them, his team had other things they should be thinking about. 

“Are you in for the second half?” his vice captain asked under his breath, taking his usual spot at Geralt’s right side. 

“Yes.” This quieted the team. They looked at him expectantly, waiting for him to tell them the plan. “And we’re going to need to focus if we want to pull ahead, so listen up.” 

***

Jaskier swore he didn’t breathe until Geralt got up. The crowd clapped politely as he walked off the field, but Jaskier was still trying to calm himself down. He’d known when he started dating a rugby player that something was bound to happen eventually, but that didn’t make it any less terrifying. 

He watched intently, trying to determine if anything was wrong just by observing the way Geralt left the field. He walked unaided, seemingly unscathed. Still Jaskier didn’t want to jump to any conclusions. 

He assumed Geralt would go to the bench, drink some water, watch the rest of the game, and be tended to by the medic if need be. At least now he no longer seemed destined for the hospital as Jaskier had feared he might be after seeing him laid out like that. 

Much to his surprise though, Geralt didn’t go sit on the bench, instead opting to rejoin his team’s huddle on the sidelines. No. He didn’t intend to. Surely not. Jaskier sighed. This man would be the death of him for sure.

***

Geralt felt fine. Good even. He was well into the second half now, and with his mind focused fully on the game he hardly noticed the pain in his back. This along, with a healthy dose of adrenaline had him feeling better than ever. And now that the other team’s captain was out for the rest of the game, they had a good shot at victory. Really, he thought to himself, things couldn’t be better. 

***

Jaskier was on edge for the whole second half, waiting for the other shoe to drop. He found himself wincing every time Geralt got the ball, silently hoping he’d pass it off to a teammate before he got tackled, worried that each hit might leave him incapacitated again.

He didn’t even care that they were winning now. He wanted more than anything to go out on the pitch and drag Geralt back to the sidelines before he got himself really hurt. The fear he’d felt seeing Geralt motionless on the grass had been awful. He never wanted to experience it again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thought I'd try my hand at a modern AU. I'm also obsessed with the idea of Geralt playing rugby. (Loosely) based on a true story from my high school rugby days.


	2. Chapter 2

Jaskier wanted to be happy that they won. He really did. But he just couldn’t get past his worry. Even once the game was over, watching Geralt walk off the field, he couldn’t get rid of the knot in his stomach. Geralt had played admirably during the whole second half, leading his team to a decisive victory, but Jaskier couldn’t help but notice small, worrying things as the game progressed. They were probably only things a boyfriend would see, but he could tell it took him longer to get up after a tackle, the way he winced when he twisted his torso to make a pass, how tired he looked walking back to midfield after a try. 

He knew this win meant a lot to Geralt, and was an important step in their team getting to the championships, but he couldn’t help but wonder if it was worth it. 

***

“We’ll debrief Monday,” Geralt said at the only half formed team huddle after the game ended. He was still trying to catch his breath from the last play of the game. Usually the team would spend a good ten or fifteen minutes going over key points of the game before breaking, but today Geralt simply didn’t have the energy. The adrenaline he got from playing was wearing off quickly, and without anything else to focus on, the pain in his back was becoming more and more apparent. 

“I’ve got jerseys this week. Don’t forget to make sure I’ve got yours before you head out,” he finished, dismissing the team before pulling off his own jersey and dropping it in the bag. He then kicked off his cleats, leaving them by his bag and grabbing his water bottle. He spent the next few minutes walking around barefoot and shirtless, collecting jerseys from his teammates. In a perfect world they would be able to do their own damn laundry, Geralt thought to himself, but there’d been enough panicked scrambles for spare jerseys on game day that he’d started just washing and distributing them himself. 

It usually didn’t bother him, but today he just wanted to get home. The thought of the four hour car ride didn’t help his quickly souring temperament. Seeing Jaskier though—that never failed to brighten his mood. 

“Hey, you drove up here, right?” he asked, wrapping an arm around his boyfriend and planting a kiss on his forehead before he had the chance to say anything. He knew Jaskier was mad, and he was really hoping to avoid a telling off. 

“Yeah, why?” Jaskier replied, wriggling away from Geralt’s sweaty bare chest. 

“I was hoping to head home now rather than later.” He knew it was impolite to skip the social, but Geralt could think of few things he’d like to do less right now than spend the next few hours surrounded by drunk, rowdy rugby players. 

“Sure,” Jaskier replied, graciously not pushing the issue further, “are you ready to head out now?” 

He nodded. “I just need to grab my stuff.” He dropped the bag of jerseys next to his own bag, pulling out his shoes and a clean shirt. 

His vice captain walked up to him as he sat on the ground lacing up his trainers. 

“You’re getting a ride home with Jaskier then?” He asked. The two of them had driven up together this morning. 

“Yeah, we’re going to head back now. Can you tell the other team I had a prior commitment or something. I don’t want them to think I’m angry or anything.” 

“You going to A&E?” 

“No, I think I just need some sleep,” he answered, standing up and patting him on the back. “I’ll see you on Monday,” he said, leaving before he was pestered with any more questions about his injury. All he needed was a little rest, maybe some ice. He definitely didn’t need anyone worrying about him. 

***

Jaskier expected Geralt to fall asleep pretty quickly after they got in the car, as he often did after a long day of rugby, but unfortunately for Geralt, this didn’t appear to be much of an option. 

The ride had started out well enough. They’d discussed the game, talking about what it would mean for their team going forward. Jaskier had told him what it had looked like from the stands, while Geralt discussed the finer points of the game which Jaskier had missed—all the while artfully avoiding talking about the illegal hit and the penalty try. 

This conversation could only take them so far though, and after a while the two of them fell into a comfortable silence. Well, maybe not so comfortable for Geralt. Even with most of his focus on the road, Jaskier could tell his boyfriend was in pain. He kept shifting positions in the passenger seat, seemingly unable to find one which didn’t cause him pain. By the time they were an hour out from Geralt’s apartment, he’d given up and reclined the seat all the way back so he was laying flat. 

“So you’re going to let me take you to A&E, right?” he asked. 

Geralt pressed his eyes shut and sighed. 

“They’ll just tell me to take something for the pain and ice it,” he huffed. “I can figure that out for myself without sitting in a waiting room for hours.” 

“Fine,” Jaskier replied, “but I’m making you an appointment with a chiropractor first thing Monday morning.” 

***

Geralt trudged up the stairs to his apartment, leaving the bag of dirty jerseys in a heap by his door. He knew they smelled, but he couldn’t muster up the energy to take them down to his apartment building’s laundry room now. They could be dealt with later. 

“I’m going to take a quick shower,” he said, turning to Jaskier, “then I’ll make us some food and we can watch a movie or something alright?” 

“That sounds great,” Jaskier replied. 

Geralt wasn’t sure if Jaskier was still upset with him, but he didn’t want to work through it now. This was an issue he’d rather revisit after a hot shower and a couple of painkillers. 

Once undressed, he turned the water up almost as hot as it would go. He hadn’t originally intended to spend more than five minutes in the shower, but the hot water felt so good he ended up just standing under the showerhead letting it relax the too tense muscles in his back. It wasn’t until the water started to turn cold that he hurried to wash up and get out. He pulled his wet hair up into a bun, not wanting to deal with it, and put on a fresh t-shirt and a pair of old grey sweatpants. 

Walking down the hall back to the living room, he tried to think through what he had in the fridge, hoping he’d be able to put together something halfway decent for him and Jaskier. The thought of cooking filled him with dread. All he wanted to do was sprawl on the couch and stay there for a few hours at least, not stand around in the kitchen. He’d do it for Jaskier though. 

“Hey,” Jaskier met him in the living room, leaning in to kiss him on the cheek now that he wasn’t all sweaty. “I put the jerseys in the wash,” he said, “don’t let me forget to go put them in the dryer in a half hour. And I ordered us some food. Hope you don’t mind.” 

Geralt smiled, wrapping him up in a hug. “You’re the best, you know that?” he said, his chin resting on Jaskier’s shoulder. 

“Oh, I’m well aware,” he replied. “How are you feeling?” 

Geralt kept Jaskier’s hand in his as he made his way to the couch, slumping against the cushions and pulling Jaskier down with him. 

“I feel like shit,” he answered. 

“I thought you were done for sure when I saw you on the ground like that,” Jaskier admitted. 

“Didn’t hurt so bad when it happened,” he mumbled. 

Jaskier turned his head to make eye contact with him.

“And now?” he asked, “be honest?” 

Geralt sighed, “I think it’s mostly just the muscle tension that hurts. I took some painkillers. I might grab the heating pad.” 

“Here,” Jaskier stood up, still holding Geralt’s hand, “take your shirt off.” 

Geralt raised his eyebrows, chuckling. “Not sure if that’ll help, but I guess I’m willing to try.” 

“No you idiot,” he was laughing now too, “I’m gonna give you a back massage. Lay down on the floor.” 

“Jaskier, you don’t have to,” he said, but he was already pulling his shirt off. 

“I know I don’t have to. I want to.” He pulled Geralt the rest of the way down onto the ground and knelt beside him. “You’re clearly not going to take care of yourself. Somebody has to do it.” 

“Hmmm.” He smiled, closing his eyes and trying his best to relax as Jaskier started to work out the knots in his back, leaning in, really putting his weight into it. 

They stayed like that until the food came, Jaskier letting his frustration dissolve as he did his best to help Geralt feel better, and Geralt wondering how in the world he got lucky enough to find someone as wonderful as Jaskier.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is it cheesy? Yes. Is it lacking in substance? Yes. Is this the best it's going to get? Also yes. Stay tuned for a fluffy part two.


	3. Part Two: Championships

Geralt woke up just as the sun was setting outside his apartment window. Fuck. He hadn’t meant to sleep for this long, but he was just so exhausted. 

Practice had been brutal today. He had lay down after he got home, intending to just rest for a few minutes before showering and heading across town for the traditional pre championship team dinner. It seemed however, that his short nap had turned into a multiple hour event. He looked over to the clock on his bedside table. He was already late.

He reluctantly pulled himself off of his bed and into the shower, doing his best to ignore his throbbing headache and the fatigue which seemed to penetrate him right down to his bones. He told himself he’d feel fine once he was out of his sweaty practice clothes, that the water would wake him up, but a few minutes into his shower he realized this wouldn’t be the case. When he started to shiver, chills rolling down his back even under the hot water he knew something was seriously wrong. He needed to go back to bed. 

He stood under the water a little longer, not having the energy or desire to get out of the shower—especially now that he was no longer rushing to get to dinner—only turning off the water when he heard his phone start to buzz from where it sat on the bathroom counter. Turning the water off and wrapping a towel around his waist he scrambled to grab the ringing phone. It was Jaskier. He remembered Jaskier talking about going to dinner with friends tonight, and he wondered absentmindedly what had been important enough to pull him away from it. 

***

Jaskier hated arguing with Geralt, and did so very infrequently, but this time he had crossed a line. 

He’d been out to dinner with friends when one of Geralt’s teammates had texted him asking if he knew why Geralt wasn’t at the team dinner. Jaskier assured him he had no idea and that had been the end of it, but something about the situation didn’t feel right. Geralt never missed a team event. In fact, he’d told Jaskier earlier in the week he couldn’t go to dinner with him tonight because of this very team dinner he was apparently absent from now. What was he up to? 

“I’m going to step out for a minute,” Jaskier told the two friends he’d gone out with. “I’ll be right back.” 

Geralt picked up after four rings. He sounded as if he’d just woken up, greeting Jaskier with a raspy, “Hello?” 

“I just got a text from one of your teammates wondering why you aren’t at the team dinner.”

“Fuck,” Geralt cursed under his breath. “I’m not feeling well. I’m not going to the dinner.” 

Jaskier’s eyebrows furrowed. He couldn’t help but worry about his boyfriend. Geralt was the type to power through things, thinking things like sickness and injury would just go away if he ignored them long enough. It took a lot for Geralt to admit he wasn’t feeling well. He must be pretty miserable.

“Do you want me to come over? Do you need anything?” he asked, concerned. 

“Didn’t you have something going on tonight? I’ll be fine.” 

“What about tomorrow? I can bring over soup or something. I hate to think of you sick in that apartment all by yourself.” 

“I have championships tomorrow,” Geralt said. “I’ll be at the game.” 

Jaskier was well aware Geralt had championships—it was all he’d been talking about for a week now—and although it was common knowledge that Geralt was very committed to his team, Jaskier didn’t think he was foolish enough to play sick. 

“You aren’t serious,” Jaskier replied, more a question than a statement, “Geralt, you aren’t going to play if you’re sick.” 

“I’m fine—I mean, I’ll be fine,” he stammered. 

Jaskier let his head fall back as he sighed, exasperated. He wasn’t going to do this over the phone. 

“Whatever you say, Geralt,” he’d said, hanging up before he had the chance to answer. 

And this brought them back to the present, shouting at each other in the living room of Geralt’s apartment. Well, Jaskier was shouting, Geralt was more trying to diffuse the situation and get Jaskier to calm down. 

“I cannot believe you! First you play through an injury, and now you want me to stand by and let you play ill? Geralt, I know how much this team means to you, and I know this game is important, but you can’t kill yourself over a rugby game.” 

“Jaskier, I’m fine, really it’s nothing,” Geralt scrambled trying to find something to placate him.

“Like hell it is! When does it end? You have to take care of yourself.” 

“I don’t have a choice,” Geralt growled, “I can’t miss this game. I’ll stay in bed for a week once it’s over if that’ll make you happy, but I’m not sitting this one out. I don’t care—” 

Jaskier cut him off. 

“That’s the problem! You don’t care about anything. You run yourself into the ground playing this stupid game and then I’m the one left tending to you!” The neighbors could surely hear him yelling, but at this point Jaskier didn’t care. 

“It’s not a stupid game,” Geralt countered, his voice cracking as he finally gave in and matched Jaskier’s volume. “And I never asked you to take care of me!” 

Jaskier took a step back, as if Geralt had dealt him a physical blow. Geralt’s expression changed immediately. He knew he’d said something he wouldn’t be able to take back. 

“Jaskier, I didn’t,” he said, his voice back at a normal volume. 

“No,” Jaskier replied in a tone which was barely more than a whisper. “Play tomorrow. I don’t care. You can do whatever you want,” he said—and in that moment he meant it. “But that doesn’t mean I have to watch.” 

Geralt took a step forward, trying to close the seemingly infinite gap which now stood between them. 

“Good luck tomorrow Geralt,” Jaskier said. “I’m not coming.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little more angsty than I intended, but you know, I'm into it.


	4. Chapter 4

Geralt had assumed in the back of his mind somewhere that he’d wake up the morning of the game feeling fine. He had to. But when his alarm blared, letting him know he had an hour until he needed to be at the field, he was met with a splitting headache, aching bones, and an upset stomach. He spent a few minutes debating whether or not he could afford to hit snooze before pulling himself out of bed, groaning and shivering as the cold air hit his skin. He pulled the blanket off his bed with him, wrapping it around his shoulders as he got up and started to get ready for the game. 

After putting on water for tea, he walked around his apartment, collecting the things he needed to bring to the game with him. Mouthguard from the bathroom drawer, cleats and sweatshirt from the front closet, shorts and socks from his dresser. He’d meant to pack his bag the night before, but he’d gone to bed right after Jaskier had left. 

Jaskier. He tried not to dwell on the argument—he needed to focus on the game—but he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t upset. He regretted what he’d said to Jaskier, and he was already planning on what he would say to his boyfriend tonight to try and fix things. This however, wouldn’t happen until this evening. Right now all he needed to focus on was getting in the right headspace to play this game. 

His phone buzzed in his pocket. Automatically he hoped the text was from Jaskier, telling him he was coming to watch after all. But no. It was his coach. 

“Heard you weren’t at dinner. Are you coming to the game?” 

“Running a little late. I’ll be at the field in 15.”

He was starting to get tired of all the questions, even if the concern was coming from a place of care. It felt like he was one interaction away from being told he would be watching this game from the bench, and that was decidedly not an option.

It made sense though, that his coach would be worried. Geralt was usually the first to arrive at the field, but he was moving slowly this morning, so slowly in fact, he’d probably be one of the last to arrive. 

Nevertheless, he made himself sit down and eat before he left. He wasn’t the least bit hungry, but he knew he’d need the energy if he wanted to last all eighty minutes. And anyway, he hadn’t eaten any dinner last night, conveniently forgetting so he could go straight to bed. After a cup of tea, a piece of toast, and a banana, he reluctantly traded his pajamas and blanket for his uniform and a sweatshirt, deciding at the last second to put his sweat pants back on over his shorts. It was still early in the morning and it was sure to be cold outside. Usually he warmed up quick enough after he got moving, but he didn’t want to sacrifice any bit of comfort he could hold on to today. 

***

The field was only a five minute walk from his apartment, but by the time he arrived he was already tired, the cold air making his chest hurt. After a particularly bad bout of coughing he considered for the first time what would happen if he didn’t play. Would it really be that detrimental? He quickly shook this thought from his head. He had to play. He was going to play. Even if he wanted to sit out, he’d been getting texts from teammates all week that they were out with what he suspected was the very bug he had now. There was nobody left on the roster who could sub in at his position. He crossed his arms over his chest, trying to conserve his warmth, depositing his bag on the ground as he reached the field. He sat down and began to lace up his cleats, still not ready to take off his sweatshirt and sweatpants. 

His vice captain jogged up to him. 

“Geralt! We missed you last night,” he said, his cheeriness in direct opposition to Geralt’s own mood.

He was in a t-shirt and shorts, his forehead already beaded with sweat. As Geralt had suspected, they’d started without him. No matter, there was still an hour until kickoff. He had plenty of time to get himself warmed up and feeling better. 

“Hmm.” 

“I took them through stretches and a jog around the field, but we’ve been waiting for you to start the real warm-ups,” he continued, unfazed by Geralt's non-response.

Geralt accepted his hand up and then took a moment to observe his team, not looking forward to what would come next. He wasn’t the only person who was inconvenienced by the players who were out sick. He’d have to shuffle people’s positions around to try and find one which would serve them well on the field. 

It took a little bit, but he was able to figure out a configuration which would work. He then took the whole team through warm-ups. To his great disappointment, the movement which he thought would wake him up and get him feeling a little more normal seemed to do the opposite. He ignored the concerned glances he got when he started to cough again. Surely they all knew what was going on—it was clear enough that he’d come down with whatever was going around the rest of the team—but to their credit, nobody said anything. Most of them had been playing with Geralt for several seasons now. They knew it took a lot to keep him off the field. 

He didn’t shed his sweatshirt until the last possible moment, doing his best to ignore the chill of the morning air as he took the field with his teammates. 

He’d been keeping an eye on the stands since spectators had begun arriving, a part of him still hoping Jaskier would show, but it wasn’t until he was on the field waiting for the sir to blow the starting whistle that something caught his attention. It was his own sweatshirt, a bright red one which Jaskier had stolen weeks ago. 

He’d come after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little bit filler-y, but I promise it'll get spicy again. Yknow, I'd originally intended for this whole story to be a one shot, but I might fuck around and write like two or three more chapters. Who knows. I'm having a good time. Hope yall are too.


	5. Chapter 5

Knowing Jaskier was watching gave him a burst of energy. He was determined to put on a good show, for him and for everyone else. Two hours. This would all be over two hours from now. He could hold on until then. Nevertheless, he could feel a pit of dread filling his stomach as the sir walked onto the field. 

When he made his way to midfield for the coin toss, he could see the satisfaction in the other team’s captain as he took in Geralt’s appearance. Watching him try to suppress a grin was infuriating. Geralt knew he didn’t look well, but the other captain must know he wasn’t going to let it impact his performance. Geralt gripped his hand extra tight as they shook hands before the sir to try and reiterate this point. Maybe this would be for the best after all—if the other team underestimated him then this whole thing might work in his advantage.

As the game began though, after the coin toss, Geralt realized it might be less of a case of the other team underestimating him, and more a case of him overestimating himself. His chest hurt, and he ran out of breath quickly. After one particularly long sprint down the field, following in support as a teammate scored, he had to stop for a few seconds while their kicker set up to make the conversion. He pulled out his mouthguard and put his hands on his knees, gritting his teeth as he was faced with the very real likelihood that he might throw up right here on the field. 

His vice captain came up and slapped him on the back, not helping matters. 

“Everything okay Geralt?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Geralt replied, taking in a shaky breath. “I’m fine.” 

He stood up and gave him a surely unconvincing half smile before jogging back to midfield, swallowing back his nausea and accepting a water bottle. He was careful not to let it touch his mouth. He’d hate to be responsible for someone else feeling as miserable as he himself felt right now. 

He could work through it though—he had to. Despite his less than exceptional performance, the game seemed to be going fairly well. Geralt hadn’t scored, but his teammates had. They were up by a small, but not razor thin margin, and they were doing well exploiting the flaws in the other team’s defense. Sickness aside, things might not be so bad if it weren’t for the contempt he faced from the other team. 

It was clear they hadn’t forgotten how they’d lost last time—how their own captain had gotten red carded, sealing their fate. And Geralt couldn’t help but notice how much of their anger was directed at him. 

It came in the form of little things like pulled hair in rucks and kicked shins in scrums—nothing major and nothing Geralt couldn’t deal with. It wasn’t until after the fact that he realized these were just opening acts for a much more sinister grand finale. 

They were up by fourteen points when it happened. Geralt had been tackled and once he was on the ground, the ruck happening above him became a fierce battle for the ball. The other team’s captain pushed forward, driving back the boys defending the ball. As he stepped across Geralt’s body to win the ruck, his cleat stomped down on Geralt’s face, hard, rewarding everyone in the vicinity with a resounding crack. Geralt knew it was broken before the blood began to gush, a white hot flash of pain momentarily obstructing his vision. It was a dirty move for sure, but Geralt had to give him this—there was no way to prove it wasn’t an accident.

The whistle blew as Geralt struggled to get up onto his knees. It wasn’t for him—the other team technically hadn’t done anything illegal—but apparently a penalty had occurred. Geralt wasn’t sure who was being penalized, but he took this opportunity to stop play. If he didn’t say something they’d continue without him, leaving him to exit the field on his own. 

“Sub sir,” he choked out, blood pouring into his mouth while he tried and failed to stem the flow with the back of his hand. 

The sir looked down at him, nodding and stopping the clock. 

Once play had officially stopped, a teammate offered Geralt a hand up. His vice captain jogged up to meet him, walking alongside him to the edge of the field. Geralt wanted nothing more than to sit down, to go home, to put this game behind him, but he was still the captain, and there was still work to be done. 

There was only one sub on the bench today, and he’d never played outside the back line. Geralt would have to use the few seconds he had left before the game resumed to completely rearrange his team to fill the hole he was leaving in the forward pack. 

“You’re going to have to take my spot,” Geralt said, still trying to catch his breath, doing his best to think past the terrible pain radiating from his broken nose. 

The vice captain played scrum half, but Geralt trusted him more than anyone else to take his spot. 

“Put the sub in at outside center and shift the rest of the back line up a spot.” He trusted the fly half to take the scrum half position. This would be fine. It had to be. 

He didn’t have time to second guess himself. The sir was blowing the whistle again, the eager freshman was leaving the bench and taking the field, and play was resuming. The game was continuing without him. 

Only a few seconds passed after he left the field before he was approached by a very concerned coach and a medic armed with a water bottle and a bag of ice. He wasn’t paying attention to them though; he was straining to follow the gameplay. No matter how miserable he felt physically, it could never compare to how awful he felt watching his team play without him. He could only hope they could pull through because he wasn’t sure if he’d be able to forgive himself if they didn’t.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm curious, are any of y'all reading this rugby players, or are y'all just horny for rugby player Geralt? (both are valid).
> 
> I also learned recently that some British people call mouthguards gum shields. Are there any British readers who can confirm or deny this?


	6. Chapter 6

The sir blew the whistle to signal the end of the first half a few minutes after Geralt left the field. The medic on hand took this as her opportunity to pull Geralt aside and start tending to him. It felt terrible to see his team huddling up to strategize without him. Desperate to quell the feeling of being left out he turned away, finally accepting care from the medic. 

She seemed worried about the state he was in. A lot more worried than he was at least. He knew he was doing terribly, and he wasn’t eager to hear this reiterated. It reminded him too much of Jaskier’s words from the night before. Geralt doubted he’d be able to admit it out loud, but everything his boyfriend had said in his anger had been completely true. He wasn’t quite ready to admit this though, even to himself. He knew an apology was in order, but he lacked the mental faculty to think about that now. 

Any thoughts of Jaskier were pushed from his mind as she ushered him over to the bench to sit. He followed without argument. Now that there was no game to distract him, everything hit him like a ton of bricks. The throbbing pain from his nose, the ache in his chest and head, and the fatigue all crescendoed as soon as he wasn’t focused on something else. It made his head spin, and for a moment he was worried he might faint. 

He sat down, accepting a rag to wipe his face and stop the slow but persistent flow of blood which he’d been unable to staunch with the back of his hand alone. 

“Thank you,” he said, his already low voice muffled further by the cloth. 

The medic seemed to take this as a sign to start questioning him. She started with the concussion protocol, examining his pupils before she began to ask him the standard questions. 

Geralt was fairly certain the damage was limited to his nose, but between his pain and his tiredness he was messing up more often than he should. He didn’t do poorly enough to fail outright, but it was enough to warrant some concern. He could hear her talking to his coach once she’d finished. He’d have to get a doctor’s note if he didn’t want this to go on his record. Not that it mattered much, the season would be over after today. And anyway, he was already going to have to head to A&E after the game for his nose. 

By the time she finished talking to his coach and made her way back over to where he sat, his nose had finally stopped bleeding. She had him remove the cloth so she could examine it. He could feel it had already swollen considerably, and he’d known from the moment it had happened that it was broken, but she insisted on prodding it anyways, trying and failing to be gentle in her quest to determine if and where there was a split in the bone. 

It took very little examination for her to come to the same conclusion he’d already arrived at. 

“It’s broken. You’re going to want to get it checked out.” 

“Thanks,” he replied, not bothering to tell her he was already fully aware of this. 

As she moved her hand from his nose, he could feel it stray up to his forehead. 

“You’re burning up,” she stated, sounding surprised. 

“Oh,” he said, fully aware of this already as well. He wondered absentmindedly how bad his nose must look if it was enough to mask the telltale pallor of fever from his face. 

“Here.” She traded his bloody rag out for the ice pack. “This should help on both counts.” 

“Thanks,” he repeated, glad to finally have her out of his hair. 

The game had started up again and he was missing it. Despite his reluctance to miss a single second of gameplay, he still took the time to strip off his now bloodstained jersey, and switch it for his sweatshirt before sitting back down on the bench. It was a significant improvement, but between the fever, the chilly day, and the ice pack, he was shivering in a matter of minutes. 

He tried his best to hide it, not wanting to appear too pathetic, but the chills tore through his body. It took an immense amount of effort to keep his teeth from chattering. 

After a few minutes of this he felt something being draped across his shoulders. He turned to see his coach giving up his own jacket to cover his sick player. 

“Thank you,” Geralt said, truly meaning it this time. 

“You look miserable kid, why don’t you head out?” he suggested. “Is there someone here who can drive you to A&E?” 

Geralt appreciated the concern, but he’d be damned if he learned the outcome of this game via text message in a hospital waiting room. 

“I’m fine, really,” he assured him. It might be more convincing if he wasn’t still shaking like a leaf. 

His coach just shook his head, knowing Geralt was too stubborn to be worth arguing with. 

Nobody bothered him for the rest of the game. He watched helplessly as the opposing team scored several tries back to back. It pained him to be able to contribute nothing. The other team was up now. The gap could be closed by one try, but time was expiring. He’d be holding his breath if his chest didn’t ache so badly. Even so, his free hand was clenched into a fist. He heard the referee call last play. They were still on defense. This was it. The game was over.

He watched, dejected. He’d accepted his fate so wholeheartedly, that when the ball changed hands he almost didn’t believe his own eyes. It happened quickly. Their own scrum half intercepted a pass and took off like a bullet, carrying the ball all the way to the try zone before the other team had time to react. Then it really was over. They’d won.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wrote this whole chapter, and I’m uploading it from work bc it’s so incredibly slow today. Who knew people didn’t want to buy sandwiches from a mall food court during a pandemic?


	7. Chapter 7

As soon as the game was over, the winners officially declared, Geralt’s teammates were rushing off the field, ecstatic, ready to share their victory with him. Much to Geralt’s surprise though, the elation which had overcome him as he watched his team score the winning try, was fleeting. By the time his teammates reached him, it was completely gone. 

He felt like the victory didn’t belong to him somehow, like he had no claim to it since he’d only played just under half of the game. And now that he no longer had the game to focus on, he was struck by how absolutely miserable he felt, physically, mentally, and emotionally. Suddenly he was met with a deep, almost panicked desire to leave without addressing his team at all. He hastily pushed these feelings aside. He was still their captain and his job here wasn’t over yet. 

The player who’d scored the winning try was approaching him now, looking almost catatonic with happiness. Geralt held his hand out for a handshake, but the player bypassed it, pulling him in for a hug instead. This succeeded in eliciting a small smile from Geralt. This particular player had struggled a lot at the beginning of the year when he’d first transferred to Geralt’s team, but he’d worked hard to get where he was now. He deserved every bit of the glory he was getting. Geralt on the other hand. 

People were congratulating him as well, but his desire to leave was growing with every passing second. He was about ready to say something about how he really wasn’t feeling well, which was true, and try to make as graceful of an exit as he could, when someone was putting an arm around him and leading him back onto the field. He’d completely forgotten about this. His team still needed to be presented with the cup, signifying their spot as league champions. As captain he’d be the one expected to accept it. 

“Hey,” Geralt said, lengthening his stride to catch up with his vice captain, “you should accept the cup. I’m not even in my uniform anymore.” 

He had the audacity to laugh. 

“Nonsense, you’re the captain,” he said. “You earned this.” 

Geralt sighed. He wasn’t sure how he could keep arguing without sounding whiny or self deprecating, so he let himself get pushed to the front of the pack of his teammates. 

Before they could receive the cup though, it was common courtesy to address the losing team. Geralt had no pity for the clearly upset captain as he shook hands and assured him unconvincingly, that they had played a good game. 

Nearly fifteen minutes had passed since the game ended before his team was finally lined up before the crowd, ready to accept their new status as champions. Geralt did his best to appear as a gracious and humble captain as he took the cup, but all he could think about was how pitiful he must look to the crowd, bundled up in a sweatshirt, face swollen and bruised. This moment was supposed to be triumphant. After all, wasn’t this what he’d been working up to for months now? But all he felt was embarrassment. 

After what felt like an eternity of photographs and slaps on the back from his teammates, who still seemed in shock from what they’d managed to pull off, the crowd of sweaty players dissipated as they sought out the people who had come to watch them play. Always one to break conventions, Jaskier was the one to find him. 

Without thinking, as soon as Jaskier approached, Geralt pulled him in for a hug. He badly wanted comfort, and he hoped Jaskier wasn’t still too angry to provide it. To Geralt’s great relief, Jaskier wrapped his arms around him, holding him tight as everyone else around them seemed to disappear. Standing there, locked in an embrace with his boyfriend, he was struck by just how upset he really was. He was upset about getting sick, about getting unfairly injured and pulled from the game early, about not getting to be a part of such a satisfying victory. For a moment he was worried he might start crying. Jaskier seemed to sense this, pulling back and giving Geralt a reassuring smile. 

“I didn’t think you’d come,” Geralt mumbled, doing his best to speak around the lump in his throat, embarrassed at what a sorry sight he must be.

“I wanted to make sure there’d be someone here to drag you to student health services as soon as the game ended,” Jaskier replied, “although it looks like you’ve gotten yourself upgraded to a hospital visit.” 

Geralt knew he was still angry, or at least frustrated by the way Geralt was choosing to take care of himself, but Jaskier’s joking tone let him know that at least for now he was willing to cut his boyfriend some slack. 

Geralt appreciated it immensely. 

“Now come on. I think you’ve had enough excitement for one day,” Jaskier said. “Let’s get you out of here.” 

As much as he wanted to duck out now without saying goodbye, his stuff was still over on the other side of the field. Nearly all of his teammates were still on the spectator side, but Geralt’s coach was back with all of the team’s stuff. 

Geralt kept his eyes down, hoping to avoid a conversation. His coach must have noticed this because he made a point to approach him as he gathered his things. 

“Geralt,” he called out, walking over to where he was crouched over his bag. 

Geralt stood up to meet his eyes, wanting nothing more than to avoid the conversation he knew was coming. 

“You did well today,” his coach told him, “and you’ve worked hard this season.” 

Geralt’s lips were pressed into a hard line. He was fighting back tears again. 

“I know today didn’t go the way you wanted it to, but you still have so much to be proud of.” 

He pulled Geralt in for a hug just as the tears began to spill down his cheeks. Geralt did his best to hide the couple of half sobs which escaped his lips. It wasn’t often that Geralt cried, but something about the illness and injury and exhaustion had stripped him of his defenses. These kind words from his coach were enough to push him over the edge. 

By the time he pulled away Geralt had regained his composure, but he knew this lapse in his stoic facade had not gone unnoticed. To his credit though, his coach didn’t mention it, even though the tears still stained his cheeks. 

“Now go home and get some rest. You’ve earned it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ate y'all are enjoying Geralt being a big softie??   
> I hope so bc I am because I'm LIVING for it.


	8. Chapter 8

Geralt slipped his hand into Jaskier’s as they left the field, his bag now slung around his boyfriend’s shoulder. His hand was cold and clammy, but Jaskier didn’t mind. 

Neither of them spoke as they made the walk across the field back to Jaskier’s car, and Geralt’s teammates were preoccupied celebrating amongst each other and the people who’d come to watch, so nobody called out to him. This saddened Jaskier a little bit, but he also knew Geralt didn’t have much energy left for social interaction. Maybe this was for the best. 

While his breathing was slow and even, Jaskier could see as they walked that a few stray tears still ran down his boyfriend’s face. Jaskier's heart ached for him, but he knew bringing it up would just make Geralt feel worse, so he resisted the urge to speak, and let the two of them walk in silence. 

Geralt was actually the one to finally break the silence once they were safely tucked away in Jaskier’s car on the far side of the parking lot. 

“You don’t have to wait with me at A&E,” he said, his voice quiet and raspy. “If you want to just drop me off I can take a cab home. I don’t want you to feel obligated to tend to me or anything.” 

Jaskier knew this was because of their fight the night before. He was still upset, yes, but Geralt looked so pitiful right now, Jaskier couldn’t help but want to take care of him. The thought of him sitting all by himself in the hospital waiting room, miserable and sad was heartbreaking. Jaskier couldn’t imagine leaving him alone now. 

“Don’t be stupid,” he said, keeping his tone light, “of course I’ll wait with you.” 

“Thank you,” Geralt replied with a sheepish expression, crossing his arms over his chest, his hands balled up in the sleeves of his sweatshirt. He must be freezing. 

Jaskier started the car and turned the heat up. 

“When did you last eat?” Jaskier asked, changing the subject. “Because we’re no doubt going to be stuck at A&E for at least a couple of hours and I don’t want you passing out on me because you haven’t eaten in a day and a half.” 

As much as he could tell Geralt wanted to argue, this claim was not unfounded. He could feed himself just fine, but he was terrible at forcing himself to eat if he was feeling poorly. 

“I ate before the game,” Geralt answered. 

Even if that was true, he knew Geralt had been at the field since at least nine this morning. By the time they finished at A&E that meal would have long worn off. 

“Still,” Jaskier said. “Are you in a rush to go get checked out, or would you let me get you some food first?” 

He figured if Geralt was really in a hurry to go to A&E he would have left as soon as the game ended, or even as soon as he left the game, but more than an hour had passed since his nose had been broken. He might be willing to put off going to the hospital for another twenty minutes. 

“Are you hungry?” Geralt asked, flipping the conversation back to him. 

“If I say yes, will you eat something?” 

“It’s just a question Jaskier.” 

“Fine, I’m starving, let’s get something to eat.”

By the time Jaskier pulled into the grocery store parking lot he was sweating, but Geralt was still bundling himself up in his sweatshirt, so he didn’t turn the heat down. 

“What do you want?” Jaskier asked, knowing Geralt wouldn’t want to go inside the store. Jaskier didn’t blame him. 

“Whatever you get is fine,” Geralt said, looking up and giving him a small smile. 

“Alright, I’ll just be a minute.” 

He returned a few minutes later with lunch for himself, with a sandwich and a chocolate milk for Geralt. 

He’d never actually seen Geralt drink chocolate milk, but whenever Jaskier was over at his apartment there always seemed to be a carton of it in his fridge. The one time Jaskier had asked him about it he’d given a curt response about how it was a good source of sugar and protein for after a workout. But Jaskier had a theory about how it was his boyfriend’s way to try and reclaim a little bit of the childhood he’d lost growing up without parents. Either way, Jaskier hoped it would help now. He’d even gotten a straw to help make it easier to drink with his broken nose. 

When he re-entered the car, he found Geralt doubled over coughing. Jaskier took his seat on the driver’s side and started rubbing his back. During the second half of the game Jaskier had been continually distracted from what was happening on the field by watching Geralt coughing up a lung from over on the bench. It hurt his own chest just to watch. 

“You alright?” Jaskier asked, realizing as soon as he said it how pointless this question was. 

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he replied, his voice cracking and dissolving into another fit of coughing. 

After he’d finally gotten his breath back and drank some water, Jaskier handed him the sandwich and the chocolate milk. Jaskier could see the flash of happiness and surprise behind his eyes when he realized what he’d gotten for him. He was glad he’d made the right choice. 

Jaskier pulled out of the parking lot, eating his sandwich with one hand as he started the trip across town to get to A&E. By the time they arrived Geralt hadn’t eaten much of his sandwich, but he’d finished the chocolate milk. 

“Are you ready to go in?” Jaskier asked. “Or do you want to wait a couple more minutes.” He hoped Geralt might eat a little bit more, but he did look pretty miserable. He couldn’t blame him if he wanted to go get some medical attention. 

“I’m ready,” Geralt responded. “Let’s get this over with.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Somebody needs to teach this boy some self care. Poor baby.


	9. Chapter 9

Just as they’d anticipated, A&E was packed. It was a Saturday afternoon, but still, Jaskier had hoped Geralt would somehow get to be seen without sitting for hours in one of the uncomfortable waiting room chairs. He’d avoided coming here after rugby injuries on a few occasions now, but it seemed as if the universe was ready to make him wait for all the time he’d avoided and then some. 

Jaskier followed him up to get the intake paperwork, ready to help however he could, before finding the only pair of chairs next to each other in the back corner of the waiting room. The paperwork itself took only a few minutes, and knowing how exhausted Geralt must be, Jaskier offered to bring it back up to the desk himself. He felt a little guilty about it, but as he walked back through the waiting room, he eyed the other people, wondering which ones would get to be seen before Geralt and which ones would wait. 

He shook those thoughts from his mind. He couldn’t throw all of his empathy out the window just because his boyfriend was having a rough day. The only helpful thing to do now was to wait with Geralt and do whatever he could to keep him comfortable. They were in for a long afternoon. 

As soon as Jaskier sat back down, Geralt slid over to the very edge of his chair so he could rest his head on Jaskier’s shoulder. Jaskier kissed him on the top of the head, for once not bothered by his sweaty, post rugby aura. He was, however, bothered by how warm Geralt felt. He resisted the urge to feel Geralt’s forehead with the back of his hand. They both knew full well he was running a fever—no doubt a pretty high one at that—so there was no point in reminding him of it. Instead Jaskier wrapped his arm around him, rubbing small circles on Geralt’s shoulder, trying to be comforting. Their chairs were located directly under a vent, and while Jaskier was unbothered by the draft of cool air, Geralt was shivering again despite his sweatshirt. Jaskier’s heart ached for him. He nudged Geralt to sit up so he could take off his own sweatshirt. It wasn’t much, but he laid it across Geralt’s exposed thighs. This might be the only time Jaskier wasn’t grateful for how short his boyfriend’s rugby shorts were. 

“Thank you,” Geralt said, not refusing this courtesy. He then laid his head back on Jaskier’s shoulder and closed his eyes. 

When Geralt spoke again, he’d been silent for so long Jaskier assumed he’d dozed off. 

“Hey,” Geralt said, looking up at Jaskier without moving his head. 

“Yeah, love?” he replied, trying his best to shift so he could make eye contact without making Geralt move. 

“I’m really sorry—about last night I mean.” 

“Don’t worry about it,” Jaskier assured him, “it’s not a big deal.” 

It had been a big deal. Jaskier had been really upset by what had happened between them, but he didn’t expect to work through it now when Geralt was already feeling so awful.

“No, it is a big deal,” Geralt replied, sitting up to face him. “You were right, and I’m not just saying that because I ended up getting hurt. Even if everything had gone fine, you still would’ve been right.” 

He maintained eye contact the whole time, and Jaskier could help but notice how swollen Geralt’s face was, two black eyes already forming and creating a stark contrast against his ashen cheeks. He really didn’t want to do this right now, but Geralt seemed to, so he obliged. 

“I know rugby means a lot to you—this game especially—and I don’t want to keep you from doing what you love, I just worry so much about you getting hurt. I hate seeing you in pain.” 

“You’re right,” Geralt answered, his voice low, almost sheepish. “I’m not as careful as I should be. And I think it’s partly because I know you’ll be there to pick up the pieces, but that’s not fair. I can’t expect that from you, and it’s selfish not to consider how it affects you.” He took in a deep, shaky breath before continuing. “I know I said I never asked you to tend to me, but truthfully, that’s only because I never had to. You are always here for me, and I took advantage of that. I am so sorry.” 

“I’ll always tend to you, Geralt,” Jaskier assured him. “I just wish I didn’t have to quite so often.” He smiled, taking Geralt’s hand in his. Geralt put his head back on Jaskier’s shoulder. 

“So you’ll forgive me?” he asked. 

Jaskier lifted their joined hands, kissing the back of Geralt’s. 

“Of course.” 

***

As terrible as Geralt felt, he felt a lot better once he apologized. Despite all of his physical discomfort, at least now his mind was at ease. He thought now he might be able to sleep to try and pass the time a little faster, but as hard as he tried he just couldn’t manage it. 

He lay against Jaskier’s shoulder with his eyes closed, but between the shivering, the coughing, the noise of the waiting room, and the pain in his head and chest, he couldn’t make himself relax. He half hoped the coughing would be enough to get him seen faster, with the risk of contagion and all, but all it earned him was unwanted attention. Some people looked at him with pity, others contempt. Both considerably worsened his mood. Jaskier rubbed his back and offered comforting words, but there was little he could do to help. 

After three and half hours, which felt more like six, a nurse finally entered the waiting room. He’d seen so many nurses come out to fetch other patients, he didn’t even look up. That is until she called out his name. Geralt breathed a sigh of relief and stood up. A part of him thought this moment would never come. 

He was ready for this horrible day to finally end.


	10. Chapter 10

Jaskier felt strange sitting in the waiting room all alone while Geralt was back being seen by a doctor. He tried to fill the time by scrolling mindlessly on his phone. This had been a long day for Geralt, of course, but it had been mentally draining for him as well. He wanted to clear his head, to let his thoughts and worries be numbed by the low stakes, unconcerned world of social media. It wasn’t until he saw a text notification from his friend that he remembered he had plans tonight. 

He was supposed to be going out for a friend’s birthday. With everything happening with Geralt it had completely slipped his mind. He felt bad cancelling at the last minute, but he couldn’t imagine deserting his boyfriend right now. He realized how much of an ass he’d look like cancelling to spend time with the very same boyfriend he’d been crying about to them less than a day ago, but if he explained everything with the broken nose and illness, they’d understand. They’d have to. 

By the time he had sent all the necessary text messages and gotten everything sorted out, Geralt was walking back into the waiting room. Jaskier was so absorbed in making sure nobody’s feelings were hurt, and the correct concessions had been made, he didn’t even notice until he was standing right in front of him. 

“Hey,” Jaskier snapped his head up from his phone, “what did they say?” 

“No concussion,” Geralt answered with a smile. 

“But?” 

“But my nose is definitely broken.” 

“And?” 

Geralt sighed. 

“And I have the flu.” 

“There it is,” Jaskier said, standing up. “Let’s get you home.” 

***

By the time they made it back to Geralt’s apartment, finally finished at the hospital, and the pharmacy, he felt like several days had passed since he’d been here last, but in reality, it was barely five o’clock. He remembered how sorry he’d felt for himself this morning when he’d been getting ready for the game. What he wouldn’t give to only feel that ill now.

He kicked off his shoes and trudged to his bedroom, Jaskier right behind. 

He collapsed onto the bed, sitting up as he immediately started to cough. 

He swore, rubbing his chest. 

“Do you want to try and get some sleep?” Jaskier asked. 

“No,” he sighed, irritated. “I’m still gross from the game. I need to shower.” Just the thought of standing in the shower made him tired. He doubted he’d have the energy to drag himself up off the bed, let alone stand in the shower long enough to get himself clean. 

“Would you rather I run you a bath?” 

His eyes lit up. A bath sounded heavenly. 

“Would you?” he asked sheepishly. 

Jaskier smiled. 

“Of course.” 

***

Jaskier was insanely jealous of Geralt’s bathtub. He often joked it was the only reason they were together, and Jaskier was just using him to get access to it. This was wholly untrue, of course, and they both knew it, but it was immensely better than the postage stamp sized shower in his own apartment. He’d never admit it, but sometimes he came over to Geralt’s apartment solely for the pleasure of taking a bath. 

If either of them deserved it though, it was Geralt. He was the athlete after all, and after long game days it was the perfect remedy for aching muscles. Jaskier hoped it would do the trick now. Or warm him up at least. Jaskier swore he hadn’t stopped shivering since he’d left the game. 

“Do you want me to wash your hair?” Jaskier asked once the hot bath was run and Geralt was comfortably reclining in the water. 

“Please?” 

He reached for the elastic holding his bun together, immediately getting it further tangled in his hair. 

“Let me.” Jaskier reached for it, careful not to pull his hair as he freed it from the tangled mess that was Geralt’s bun. 

He then grabbed the cup from under his sink and the bottle of shampoo, pouring water over Geralt’s head and back and lathering up the shampoo until the white of his hair had been obscured by the white bubbles. 

Geralt seemed to relax under his touch and the warm water. Jaskier knew this wasn’t enough to get rid of all his woes, but it was a start, and he was grateful to be able to provide these little comforts, even if they didn’t add up to much in the grand scheme of things. 

***

There were few things Geralt loved more than getting his hair washed by Jaskier. His fingers were so gentle as he took his time to untangle it and work the shampoo into a lather, all the while massaging his scalp. It was more calming than anything Geralt could think of. He tried to just sit and enjoy it, letting the water warm him up after spending all day freezing cold, letting Jaskier wash away the sweat and grime of the game from his head and shoulders. Jaskier hummed to himself as he worked, and Geralt’s heart swelled. Moments like this made him think he might not have enough room in himself for all the love he held for Jaskier. 

But like all good things, this too must come to an end. 

He felt the telltale tightness in his chest and tried to suppress it, wanting to be able to relax for just a little bit longer, but of course it was no use. He curled in on himself covering his mouth with the crook of his elbow as he began to cough. It hurt. He felt stabbing pains in his chest, and raw scraping in his throat as his muscles all contracted together to violently expel all of the air from his lungs. His eyes shut with the force of it and he tried his best to ignore the pain and get as much air in between coughs as he could. After what felt like several minutes he was finally able to relax enough to take in a few shaky, consecutive breaths. Once his breath was back, the first thing he was struck by was the sharp metallic taste in his mouth. He opened his eyes to find Jaskier looking at him, an utterly terrified look on his face. He followed his boyfriends line of sight down to his own arm, a similar feeling of terror washing over him as he saw what Jaskier was seeing. 

The crook of his elbow was covered with a splatter of blood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Figured it was about time for a cliff hanger.


	11. Chapter 11

Geralt didn’t know what to do. This was bad, right? Coughing up blood was bad. But he could breathe—he wasn’t dying. His chest hurt though, badly, and he was afraid he might start coughing again. And what would happen if he did? Was this an emergency? Was he overreacting? He wiped the blood from his arm, as if this problem would disappear as the blood turned light pink and dissipated into the bath water. 

Jaskier looked at him, seeming to be at a loss for words. 

This did nothing to help the anxiety growing in Geralt’s stomach. He was trembling again, this time not from cold, but from fear. 

“What do we?” he began. 

“Should we call?” Jaskier asked. “I’m going to call.” 

Yes. Jaskier always knew the right thing to do. He could call the emergency number and they’d be able to tell them what to do. 

Geralt noticed how Jaskier’s hand shook as he reached to get his phone off the bathroom counter. He wished there was something he could do to comfort him, but Geralt was just as afraid as he was. 

Jaskier began to pace back and forth in the small bathroom as he dialed the phone, not helping Geralt’s own anxiety in the slightest. He started to rinse the last of the shampoo out of his hair, suddenly wanting nothing more than to be out of the bathtub. He was standing up to get out just as Jaskier began to speak. 

“Hello, yes.” His voice was higher than usual and Geralt could tell he was trying his best to sound calm and collected. 

“I brought my boyfriend into A&E earlier today because of a broken nose and the flu, and he’s just begun coughing up blood, so we’re wondering if we need to go back to A&E,” he fumbled through the explanation a bit, but Geralt was beyond glad it was Jaskier on the phone instead of him. He’d never stop being grateful for everything Jaskier had done for him today. Truly, it was so much more than he deserved. 

He wrapped a towel around his waist and sat down on the edge of the bathtub. 

“Yeah, just the once—a couple of minutes ago,” Jaskier said, replying to whatever the person had asked on the other end. 

“His nose was broken this morning. Unrelated to the flu.” He paused again, listening. 

Geralt reached out to grab his hand. The pacing was freaking him out, and the bathroom really wasn’t big enough for it. Jaskier stopped, taking Geralt’s hand in his and rubbing the back of it with his thumb. He wasn’t sure if it was because he himself was nervous, or if he was trying to comfort Geralt, but he either way he found the gesture soothing. 

“Yeah, he was in the bath at the time.” 

What could that possibly have to do with anything? He should have had Jaskier put the phone on speaker, but it was too late to ask now. 

Jaskier waited for a moment before speaking again. 

“Yes.”

Another long pause. Geralt wished he could hear what the other person was saying. 

To his surprise, after listening for another long moment, Jaskier grabbed a tissue from the box off the bathroom counter and handed it to Geralt. 

He put his hand over the speaker. 

“Blow your nose,” he instructed, giving no other context. Geralt was confused, but he did as he was told. 

His nose was still extremely sensitive to touch, and forcing air through it brought on a deep, throbbing pain. He didn’t refuse to do it though, and he was rewarded with a mess of blood in the tissue. 

Jaskier let out the breath he’d been holding, seeming to be relieved. 

“Yes,” he said into the phone. “Okay, thank you.” 

The next minute or so was filled with an assortment of “yes” and “thank you,” and “alright,” until Jaskier finally hung up. 

“What did they say?” Geralt asked, trying his best to be gentle as he dabbed at the blood which was once again dripping from his nose. 

“They said it was most likely caused by the steam from the bath dilating the broken blood vessels in your nose,” he explained. “And since your head was tilted back the blood ran down your throat instead of out your nose, and that’s what came up when you were coughing.” 

“So it’s not my lungs?” Geralt asked, hopeful.

“Most likely no,” Jaskier replied. “And since your nose is bleeding now, it’s pretty safe to assume that’s where it came from.” 

He too breathed a sigh of relief. If Jaskier had told him they had to go back to A&E he didn’t know what he’d do. He wasn’t sure if he’d be able to handle that information. 

“So what do we do about it then?” 

“They said to avoid steam, like baths or hot drinks,” he explained, “and try to manage the coughing, and just watch and make sure it doesn’t get worse,” he answered. “He said to come back to A&E if you kept coughing up blood, had any trouble breathing, or if your fever spiked.” 

Okay, that was pretty standard. He could work with this. He’d be alright. 

“How do you feel now?” Jaskier asked. 

“Like shit,” he answered, trying and failing to suppress another cough. This time at least the coughing only lasted a few seconds, and no blood came up. His whole body ached though, and the pain in his nose, which went down considerably after taking one of the painkillers he got from A&E, had returned with renewed vigor. 

Jaskier laid a hand on his forehead. 

“That’s not going to tell you anything,” Geralt rasped, “I’ve been in a hot bath.” 

This might be true, but he also knew the fever hadn’t gone anywhere. He still felt weak, and his head ached. The hot water had gotten rid of the chills for the moment, but he knew if he spent much more time sitting around with wet hair, wearing nothing but a towel, they’d come right back. 

“I just want to go to bed,” he admitted, looking up at Jaskier and sighing. 

“Alright,” Jaskier replied, leaning down to kiss him on the forehead. Geralt knew he was trying to get a read on his temperature, but he appreciated the affection nonetheless. 

“Can you get me a glass of water?” 

“Of course, love. Do you need anything else?” 

He shook his head. All he wanted was to lay in bed. Hopefully now, after everything he’d been through today, he’d finally get the chance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not much of a cliffhanger I know. I meant to leave you hanging for longer and wait to write a new chapter until later this week, but I had a really rough afternoon and writing this fic makes me happy so.  
> Bon appetit ig.


	12. Chapter 12

Once Jaskier left to go get the water, Geralt stood up, steadying himself on the counter for a few seconds as a wave of dizziness passed over him, waiting until he was sure it was gone before getting dressed. 

He pulled his hair up into a bun again, knowing it would end up tangled, but not wanting to deal with the cold, wet strands on his neck and shoulders. 

Jaskier met him in the bedroom with the water bottle. He grabbed Geralt’s laptop from his desk as Geralt drank the water, and started it up. 

He sat upright against the headboard and once Geralt finished the water, he too climbed into bed, laying a pillow down on Jaskier’s lap before reclining across his boyfriend’s legs. 

“Comfortable?” He asked. 

Geralt just nodded. He was comfortable, finally. The pain hadn’t gone anywhere, but laying down with the blankets up around his shoulders, resting on Jaskier’s lap, he was finally content. 

Jaskier opened up a show on Geralt’s laptop, one of their favorites which they’d both seen before, and rested his hand on Geralt’s shoulder. 

He shut his eyes, listening to the familiar episode as Jaskier ran his fingertips across his arm and down his back in a gentle rhythm. He let his muscles relax under Jaskier’s touch. 

It was still early, but Geralt felt like if he fell asleep now he wouldn’t wake again until the morning. That wouldn’t be so bad. He wondered absentmindedly what he’d been doing now if he weren’t sick. His teammates were probably getting ready to go out and celebrate at the pub right now. He couldn’t help but feel jealous. Rugby players were known for their ability to drink even without special occasion; the celebration of their championship win would no doubt be legendary. He hated to think it was going to happen without him. 

“Wait, Jaskier,” Geralt said, propping himself on an elbow so he could face his boyfriend. Thinking about his own ruined plans reminded him that Jaskier was supposed to go out tonight too. Geralt had asked earlier this week if he’d want to come drinking with the rugby team if they won and he’d said no because he was going out for his friend’s birthday. He had seemed really excited at the time, but he hadn’t mentioned anything about it today. Had his plans changed, or had he just dipped out without mentioning it to Geralt.

“What’s wrong, love?” Jaskier asked, pausing the show. 

“What? Nothing’s wrong. I just remembered about your friend’s birthday. Aren’t you supposed to go out tonight?” 

“Oh,” Jaskier replied. “I told them I couldn’t go.” 

“Why?” 

Jaskier looked at him, incredulous. “I’m not going to leave you here all by yourself.” 

“I’m just going to sleep,” he said. “You don’t need to stick around for that.” 

Jaskier’s eyebrows furrowed. “It’s fine Geralt, really, I told them hours ago I wasn’t coming.” 

“You didn’t have to do that. You should go,” Geralt tried to persuade him. 

Jaskier didn’t reply right away, looking like he wasn’t quite sure how to respond. 

“What if something happens,” he began. “And I’m not here.” His voice was a lot quieter now, and more somber. 

The coughing up blood incident had frightened them both, there was no denying that, but it had turned out to be a lot less scary than it seemed in the moment. Geralt didn’t want Jaskier to feel obligated to hang around his apartment while he slept just in case something else happened. Geralt loved having him around, of course, and he was endlessly grateful to have someone to take care of him, but he didn’t want to keep Jaskier from his plans, and he knew he could take care of himself well enough on his own, at least for the night. 

“Nothing else is going to happen,” Geralt assured him. “And if it does, I’m fully capable of getting help for myself.” 

Jaskier didn’t seem wholly convinced, but he didn’t argue. 

“Fine, but I don’t have to be anywhere for a few hours still. Unless you want to kick me out now.” 

Geralt laid his head back down on Jaskier’s lap. 

“Of course I don’t.” 

***

Jaskier gently shook Geralt’s shoulder. He’d been asleep for nearly an hour now, and Jaskier hated to wake him, but it was time for him to leave. He wasn’t supposed to be at his friend’s apartment for another hour still, but he wanted to go home to shower and change first. He’d feel terrible if he ended up passing on Geralt’s flu to one of his friends.

“What?” Geralt said, his voice raspy and thick with sleep. 

“I’ve got to head out,” Jaskier said. “Do you need anything before I go?” 

Geralt shook his head. 

“Alright.” He leaned down, kissing Geralt’s forehead before sliding out from under the pillow on his lap where he’d been sleeping. He tried his best not to think about how warm it was. 

Geralt rearranged the pillow under him once Jaskier was off the bed, laying back down and looking up at Jaskier through half closed eyes. Seeing him there in bed, half asleep with his hair coming out of his bun in a messy halo around his head, his face still swollen and bruised, Jaskier almost changed his mind. But no, Geralt was right, there was no reason to stay here all night if he was just going to sleep.

“If you need anything at all tonight just call me, okay?” Jaskier instructed. “I mean it. I’ll be sober, and I’ll have my phone on me the whole night.”

“Okay, love,” Geralt replied. 

“I mean it,” Jaskier emphasized. “If you need anything at all, don’t hesitate.” 

“I won’t.” 

“Alright.” 

He still felt bad leaving, but it did seem like Geralt was just going to sleep for the rest of the evening and night. 

Before he left though, he made sure the water bottle next to the bed was full, and Geralt’s phone was in reaching distance and fully charged. He could only stall for so long though, and he really did need to be going now if he didn’t want to be late.

“I’ll be back over in the morning,” he said. “Sleep well, okay?” 

“I will.” 

He knew, Geralt had little control over this, but he liked the reassurance nevertheless. Hopefully he would still be sleeping when Jaskier returned in the morning. He deserved a good night’s rest after all he’d been through today.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not me thinking about how it might be worth it to have a broken nose and the flu if it meant I could cuddle with somebody.  
> Also the show they're watching is Parks and Rec. You can't change my mind.


	13. Chapter 13

After Jaskier left, Geralt slept soundly for a little while. He’d been hoping to sleep until morning, but of course he couldn’t be that lucky. 

He woke up coughing, reluctantly sitting up until he was able to catch his breath. He could barely keep his eyes open, but he still grabbed his phone from the bedside table to check what time it was. Just after midnight. So he’d gotten a few hours of sleep. He should be grateful for that at least. He then grabbed the water bottle Jaskier had left for him and took a few long drinks before propping up his pillows and trying to get back to sleep. 

The pillows helped for a little while, but as the hours passed he found himself falling into a routine, sleeping for shorter and shorter stretches, with steadily worse bouts of coughing in between. After a few hours of this he was about ready to give up on trying to sleep at all. If only he weren’t so tired. 

By four in the morning, the coughing had become violent enough to get his nose bleeding again.

“Fuck.” 

He could taste the blood in his mouth again, and feel it dripping from his nose. He reluctantly dragged himself out of bed, trying to stem the blood with one hand while still coughing. The last thing he wanted to do was leave his bed, but getting blood all over his sheets would be more tiresome in the long run. 

He gave up trying to stop the blood coming from his mouth and nose, instead just leaning over the sink until the coughing stopped. As he rinsed out the splatter of red from the sink, he tried to think of what to do. Jaskier had said he’d need to go back to A&E if he kept coughing up blood, but he didn’t feel like this was really an emergency. It was just a matter of coughing while having a bloody nose. Going back to A&E wouldn’t solve anything. And it would mean calling Jaskier to come pick him up. 

He thought about calling Jaskier anyway though, even to just stay here with him, but he stopped himself. There was nothing Jaskier could do to fix this either, and he deserved his night out with friends. And anyway there was a good chance Jaskier was at home asleep by now. He’d need his rest if he was going to keep from catching Geralt’s flu. Geralt could endure this on his own until morning. 

He was shaking again now, and he was afraid he might pass out from exhaustion. Had his fever gotten worse in the night? He couldn’t be bothered to check. 

Now that the coughing was over, at least for the moment, he wanted to try and get more sleep, but the blood still flowed freely from his nose. This was his own personal hell. He was convinced of this. 

He grabbed a few tissues, trying and failing to hold them up to his nose without causing any pain. He then walked back to his room, grabbing his phone and his water bottle, accepting the fact that he’d have to stay in the bathroom until the bleeding was under control. 

Of course as soon as the blood from his nose finally started to subside he was hit with another fit of coughing. He leaned over the sink, exasperated as he watched the blood start to spatter the white ceramic again. This seemed like a good enough system until he began to choke, the blood running down his throat catching as he tried to inhale between coughs, getting in his lungs and making everything worse. He reached for his water bottle, desperate to get the blood out of his mouth and clear his airways.

He drank the water greedily, thinking for sure it would help, but the sensation of the slick, hot, metallic blood going down his throat with the cool water, mixed with the unsteadiness and general sick feeling from the fever, was too much. His stomach turned. He got to his knees in front of the toilet just in time for all of the water to come back up. It stung, tears forming in his eyes as he vomited up blood, water, and bile. 

What had he done to deserve this? 

Once he was finished throwing up, he wiped his mouth with a trembling hand. His whole body was shaking again, the chattering of his teeth doing absolutely nothing to help the throbbing pain in his nose. 

He curled up on the floor, leaning up against the edge of the bathtub, resigned to his fate. He was freezing cold and miserable, but he couldn’t bring himself to get up and go back to bed knowing he would just have to get up again in a matter of minutes as soon as he started coughing. 

He spent the next hour or two switching between trying to get his coughing under control, and trying to manage the now quite insistent flow of blood from his nose. It felt like an eternity passed as he tried and failed to get himself to a place where he could go back to bed and finally get some decent sleep. It had to be morning now. Jaskier would be here soon. Right? This hellish night couldn’t last forever. 

Miraculously, in the early hours of the morning, rest found him again. He wasn’t sure quite how he was able to sleep with all of the pain and discomfort of the bathroom floor, but after he finally stopped coughing for long enough to get the bleeding to stop for good, he somehow managed to doze off, his head resting on his arm on the rim of the bathtub. 

The next time he woke, his phone read seven fifteen, and the biggest discomfort he was facing seemed to be his nose and the fact that he’d spent several hours sitting on the floor. This was good. These were problems he knew how to deal with. He stood up, his joints protesting, and grabbed the bottle of painkillers from where they sat on the bathroom counter. He swallowed one with a swig of water before walking back to his bedroom. 

He’d never felt more appreciative of his bed in his life. Hopefully now the worst of this was behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You’d think for something I enjoy writing so much, I’d learn to savor it. Cest la vie I guess


	14. Chapter 14

Despite his best efforts, sleep still eluded him. After only a few minutes he began to feel nauseous. He couldn’t help but wonder if he would have been better off just continuing to sleep on the bathroom floor. That had been his best rest of the night so far. 

No. He was finally given a respite from the coughing and the nosebleeds. He’d be damned if he didn’t take advantage of this time now. If he could just doze off again, he was sure the nausea would be gone by the time he woke up. 

No such luck. 

It seemed to grow with every passing minute, taking a hold of his stomach and creeping up his throat, until he reluctantly had to drag himself out of bed and back to the bathroom. He did his best to ignore how freezing cold the floor was against his legs as he knelt in front of the toilet. 

He wondered what time it was. How long had this night dragged on for? As he considered this, he realized he’d left his phone on his bedside table. There was no way he’d be going to get it now though. 

This thought had just crossed his mind when he heard his front door opening. 

At last, a stroke of luck. 

Jaskier was here.

***

Jaskier was shocked to see how much worse Geralt looked now than he had when he left last night. 

He was pale as a ghost apart from the mess of purple bruises which spread across the swollen bridge of his nose, deepening to almost black underneath both of his eyes. There were several big drops of blood staining his shirt, and he was leaning over the toilet looking as if he was mere moments away from throwing up. 

“My poor boy,” Jaskier breathed. “What’s going on? What’s wrong?” 

“I don’t feel well,” Geralt murmured. 

This much was abundantly clear. 

“Do you know why?” Jaskier asked, not sure how to help him if he couldn’t figure out what was wrong. 

Geralt shook his head, closing his eyes and taking a few long, deep breaths. 

“Have you thrown up already, or do you just feel like you might?” He asked. 

“Just feel like it,” he answered. 

Okay, this was a start.

“How has the rest of the morning been then? When did you start feeling nauseous?” 

Geralt seemed to think for a second. 

“I got up and took a painkiller maybe half an hour ago, but when I tried to go back to sleep I started to feel sick,” he answered. 

Now they were getting somewhere. He picked up the pill bottle and began reading the label.

“There’s your problem love,” Jaskier said, examining the label on the pill bottle, “you can’t take these on an empty stomach,” 

“Fuck,” Geralt swore, still keeping himself positioned above the toilet. 

“Don’t worry,” Jaskier assured him, keeping his tone light. “We can fix this easy enough.” 

He went into the kitchen to where a bag of groceries sat on the counter. He’d gone to the store early this morning before heading over to Geralt’s and it seemed like this foresight was already paying off. 

He grabbed a sleeve of saltine crackers, and brought them back to where Geralt sat on the floor. 

“This should help,” he said, offering Geralt the crackers. 

Geralt looked wary, but he didn’t refuse, taking one of the crackers and starting to nibble on it. 

“You won’t feel so nauseous once there’s some food in your stomach,” Jaskier promised sitting down on the rim of the bathtub behind Geralt, ready to hold his hair back if it turned out he was wrong. Half of it was still up in the bun from last night, but most of it was loose in a tangle around his shoulders. But this was a problem which could be dealt with later. 

Sure enough, after eating a couple of the crackers over the span of about fifteen minutes, Jaskier could see some of the color returning to Geralt’s face. 

“Feeling better?” he asked. 

Geralt nodded. 

“Do you want to try and get some sleep now?” He looked beyond exhausted. Jaskier couldn’t help but wonder how much he’d managed to rest last night. 

“Please,” Geralt replied. 

“Bedroom, or couch?” Jaskier asked. 

“Couch.” He didn’t sound completely sure of himself, but Jaskier didn’t question him further, wanting to get Geralt back to sleep as quickly as possible. 

“Perfect,” Jaskier said. “You go lay down, and I’ll grab your pillow and some blankets, okay?” 

Geralt nodded, standing up and shuffling in his sock feet into the living room. 

Jaskier then went into his bedroom to collect the things he’d need to comfortably set up Geralt on the couch. 

Jaskier loved being Geralt’s boyfriend. Adored being Geralt’s boyfriend. But sometimes he couldn’t help but also feel as if he were Geralt’s mother. He cut him some slack, because Geralt didn’t have a mother. And if he was being completely honest, he didn’t really mind taking care of Geralt in times like these when he was sick. Still, he wished Geralt was a bit more intuitive about how to care for himself. 

This sentiment was reinforced as he went to grab a pillow from Geralt’s bed, finding it in a similar state to Geralt’s shirt—splattered with blood. Jaskier felt a nervous feeling in his chest. What had happened last night. Upon further investigation, there were stray drops of blood staining his sheets and duvet as well. Jaskier sighed. It was a good thing Geralt wanted to sleep out in the living room, because this would all need to be thoroughly cleaned. 

He carefully pulled a pillow from the bottom of the pile, examining it closely before deciding this one was usable. He then went to the hall closet to grab a spare blanket, bringing them both out to the living room along with Geralt’s water bottle. 

He was glad to find Geralt still sitting up on the couch waiting for him. He hadn’t gotten himself comfortable yet, so Jaskier felt less bad about what he was going to ask him to do. 

“I need your shirt, Geralt, it’s covered in blood.” 

Geralt looked down, seeming to just notice this. 

“Just put it on the floor,” Jaskier told him, not wanting to deal with the blood until he had gloves on. “What about your pants?” he asked. 

Geralt stood up, both of him examining the grey sweatpants for a few moments before deciding they were clean. 

As he went to get Geralt a clean shirt, Jaskier wondered if he could justify keeping Geralt awake long enough to ask him about the blood. He looked half dead, but Jaskier was concerned, and he might feel better if he knew what was going on.

What had happened while he was gone last night? 

How worried did he need to be?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaah, I feel like this story is rushing by. I'm used to updating as soon as I finish a chapter, but I've had a lot of spare time to write lately. Would y'all rather I keep updating as soon as I finish a chapter, or would you rather I space the chapters out more?   
> I've still got several more chapters planned, but I'm not sure how much longer it'll be if I keep having so much extra time to write during the day.


	15. Chapter 15

Geralt was in awe of how much better he felt. The nausea had almost completely disappeared, and he felt like he might finally be able to fall asleep. And it had been so easy. Such a simple solution, but he’d never have come to it on his own. He hadn’t even been able to identify the problem. In his defense though, he hadn’t really tried. 

Geralt was the type to endure problems until they went away. Jaskier was the type to fix them. 

Geralt put it down to a difference in upbringing. As a child, Geralt often didn’t have someone he could go to for help. Jaskier on the other hand had grown up with parents who not only took care of him, but also taught him how to take care of himself. He knew all the little tricks to get nausea to go away, to get fevers to go down. He knew which medicine is best for colds and which is good for pain. It was all the small things which everybody his age seemed to presume were common sense, but nobody had ever bothered to teach Geralt. 

It made him feel worse about not calling Jaskier when he’d been so miserable last night.

As if on cue, Jaskier appeared in the living room, his arms full with a bundle of bedding. 

“Babe, I went to go grab your blanket from the bed, but there’s blood everywhere. Is everything alright? What happened while I was gone?” He said as he deposited the blanket on top of Geralt who was now curled up on the couch. 

“Fuck, I thought I was careful. I really tried not to get blood on the sheets. I can clean it up.” 

“No, Geralt, that’s not what I’m worried about. I’m worried about why you were bleeding in the first place.” 

Geralt sighed. He knew he’d have to tell Jaskier about the hellish events of last night eventually, but he still felt awkward explaining it. He took a few seconds to put on the clean t-shirt and get himself situated with the pillow and blanket, thinking about how best to convey the information before he started talking. 

“I was fine for awhile,” he began. “But then I started coughing around midnight and I tried to sleep but the coughing kept getting worse. Eventually my nose started bleeding again and then everything just sort of spiraled.” 

“What do you mean, spiraled?” Jaskier asked. He looked worried now, scared even. 

“Well,” Geralt couldn’t quite figure out how to explain it without the story sounding more scary than it needed to be, “I started coughing up blood again because my nose was bleeding, and I thought I could just wait it out and the nosebleed would stop, but every time I started coughing again the bleeding would get worse. I tried drinking water, but I couldn’t keep it down.” He was rambling now, and Jaskier looked horrified. 

“I thought you said you didn’t throw up,” Jaskier questioned. 

“That was different. It wasn’t like I was nauseous or anything,” he fumbled, “I was coughing and the blood kept going down my throat and I thought drinking water would help but it just came right back up.” 

“Geralt.” Jaskier seemed to be at a loss for words. 

“After that I just sort of sat on the bathroom floor for awhile, trying to get my nose to quit bleeding. I went back to bed a little while before you got here. I’d just gotten up again when you came,” he explained, trying to fill the disappointed silence. “I’m sorry I didn’t call,” Geralt apologized, looking up at Jaskier from where he lay bundled up on the couch.

“It’s just that things didn’t get really bad until like four in the morning, and I didn’t want to wake you. I thought I should let you sleep since there wasn’t a whole lot that could’ve been done to fix it.” 

He could feel already the painkiller was hitting him a lot harder today than it had yesterday. His words were starting to slur, but he didn’t want to fall asleep without letting Jaskier know he was sorry. 

“Love,” Jaskier sighed, “even if I couldn’t fix it I could have at least helped make you a bit more comfortable,” he pointed out. “I could have gotten you a blanket so you weren’t freezing on the bathroom floor,” he continued. “I could have been there for you.” 

Geralt could tell he really did want to be there for him, and he was hurt that Geralt hadn’t let him. 

“You’re here now,” Geralt said. “I don’t want you to go anywhere.” 

“I’m not going anywhere,” Jaskier assured him. 

Geralt reached his hand out from under the blanket to grab Jaskier’s. 

“Sit with me?” Geralt asked.

“Of course.”

***

Jaskier sat down at the end of the couch, putting Geralt’s feet in his lap. 

“You know this means we’re going back to A&E, right?” 

Geralt’s eyes were already closed, but he was awake enough to nod. 

“Can I take a nap first?” he mumbled. 

The poor kid was already half asleep. Jaskier would be a villain to make him get up now. 

“Yes, but the second you’re doing anything but sleeping soundly we’re going right back in, even if I have to drag you.” 

“Okay love,” he hummed, crossing his arms over his chest and burrowing deeper into the blanket. 

Jaskier was glad to see him resting—by the sound of it he really needed the sleep—but he couldn’t get rid of the worried feeling in his chest. 

Was he doing the right thing? Should he really be letting him sleep, or should he have taken him back to A&E right away? Was it really just the mix of the broken nose and the flu which was making things seem so bad, or was there something more sinister going on? 

He could feel himself starting to panic, his heart racing and his breath quickening. He couldn’t do this right now. Geralt needed to rest and his boyfriend having a panic attack at the other end of the couch wouldn’t help. 

He needed to have a serious talk with Geralt about what had happened last night, but for now he should sleep. Things would be okay until he woke up, Jaskier told himself. 

They had to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor baby x2


	16. Chapter 16

Geralt fell asleep almost immediately after their conversation ended, the lines of his face smoothing out as he finally relaxed. Jaskier sat there with him for a while, contemplating maybe taking a nap as well. He was comfortable, and plenty tired enough. He’d been out late last night, and while he hadn’t drank, so he wasn’t dealing with a hangover, he still got a lot less sleep than usual, especially since he’d gotten up early to go to the store before heading here. 

All of these hopes were dashed, however, as soon as Geralt started snoring. 

Jaskier hated snoring. On the infrequent occasions when Geralt snored, Jaskier would normally wake him up and make him roll over. Today though, between the congestion and the broken nose, he figured the snoring was probably inevitable. Jaskier was just glad to see he was finally sleeping soundly. He needed it. Still, that didn’t mean Jaskier had to sit here and endure it. If he wasn’t going to nap, he decided the best use of his time was probably cleaning. 

Geralt usually kept his apartment tidy, much neater than Jaskier’s own place, but between the neglect due to being sick and busy with rugby, and the biohazard caused by Geralt’s excessively bloody nose, there were a few things Jaskier could do. 

He stood up, carefully lifting Geralt’s feet off his lap, holding his breath until he was sure Geralt wasn’t going to wake up. 

Once he’d successfully extricated himself from the couch, Jaskier headed to the hall closet. He found Geralt’s first aid kit, and opened it up, trying to keep everything organized as he thumbed through the contents. After a few seconds of searching, he found what he was looking for—a pair of latex gloves. Now he could safely and comfortably deal with the bloody bed sheets. While he was at it, he should probably clean the bathroom too. From the way Geralt told it, it had seen its fair share of blood last night as well.

He started in the bedroom, and after observing the scene, he decided it would be best to just wash everything. He stripped the whole bed, glad to see the blood hadn’t soaked through and stained the mattress, and put the bedding in a trash bag to bring down to the washing machine. 

He’d often teased Geralt for his lack of creativity in decorating, but his plain white sheets and t-shirts came in handy now as he tried to get the stains out. He poured in a capful of bleach along with the laundry detergent and said a silent prayer as he started the washing machine, setting a timer on his phone so he’d remember to put them in the dryer. He knew himself too well, and if he wasn’t careful Geralt would be forced to sleep on the couch tonight because his bedding was still wet. 

He then went back upstairs to Geralt’s apartment, utilizing the bleach again as he started to work on disinfecting the bathroom. He was again grateful for Geralt’s tidiness as he imagined doing this in his own cluttered bathroom. It would take quite a while to make sure everything piled on his counters was clean, but it only took a couple of minutes to wipe down Geralt’s whole space since all of his things were neatly put in the cupboard and drawers rather than strewn everywhere like Jaskier’s. 

He was just taking his gloves off and washing his hands when he heard Geralt’s phone ringing from his bedroom. Afraid it might wake Geralt, he went to go retrieve it, wondering absentmindedly who might be calling. 

It was Geralt’s coach. Jaskier reached for it, not thinking about whether or not he should answer before picking up. 

“Geralt’s phone, this is Jaskier.” 

“Oh, hello Jaskier, how are you doing?”

As the first openly gay team captain in the school’s athletic department, Geralt’s name had been passed around a lot for awhile. And as his boyfriend, Jaskier had gotten a fair bit of attention as well. Not that Jaskier minded attention. And it meant pretty much everyone in the rugby program was on a first name basis with him. Jaskier had chatted with Geralt’s coach on a couple of occasions, and he’d always seemed like a genuinely nice guy. 

“I’m doing fine,” he answered. “What did you need?” 

“I just called to check in on Geralt. He seemed to be in pretty bad shape yesterday when he left the game.” 

Had it really only been a day since he’d gotten injured? So many things had happened since then. 

“He’s hanging in there,” Jaskier said, wanting to tell the truth without making the story sound too concerning. 

“Did he end up going to A&E?” 

“Yeah, I took him right after the game yesterday. They said he didn’t have a concussion, but he’s got the flu and his nose is broken, so he’s having a pretty rough go of it at the moment,” Jaskier explained. “He’s having some trouble with his nose bleeding so I’m taking him back in later today to make sure nothing else is going on. He’s sleeping right now though.” 

“Poor kid,” Geralt’s coach sympathized. “That sounds pretty miserable.” 

That was quite the understatement. 

“Yeah,” Jaskier agreed. “He’s definitely having a rough time.” 

“I bet,” he replied. “Well, let him know I called. Tell him I hope he feels better soon.” 

“I will, for sure.” 

“And if you boys need anything at all, just let me know, okay?” Jaskier could tell from his tone that this wasn’t an empty sentiment. He really meant it. 

“Thank you, I definitely will.” 

It warmed Jaskier’s heart to know Geralt had other people who cared about him the way he did. And it was comforting to know that if things got really bad he wouldn’t have to deal with everything by himself. Jaskier’s own parents were hours away, and so was Geralt’s adoptive dad, Vesemir, so knowing there was a real adult around he could go to for help if need be felt like a weight off his shoulders. Hopefully it wouldn’t come to that, but just knowing he had a safety net helped to set Jaskier’s mind at ease. He wasn’t in this alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know we've kind of progressed past the rugby part of this story (for now), but if this fic has inspired anyone who wasn't already a fan to maybe check out rugby (which I hope it has) I HIGHLY recommend watching The US major league team, The Seattle Seawolves.  
> All of their games are on youtube, and while they don't have any players as beautiful as Geralt, I'd be lying if I said their number 7, Nakai Penny, and number 10, Ben Cima, didn't come damn close.  
> Also, if you watch the 2019 semifinal between them and the Toronto Arrows, you can catch a glimpse of me in the stands  
> And if anyone's ever looking for someone to watch a game with hmu. I am always down to watch rugby.


	17. Chapter 17

Geralt slept for nearly two hours. Jaskier hoped he might get a little more rest than that, but once he started coughing again, he knew that the brief respite had ended. This was probably for the best. They shouldn’t put off going back to A&E for much longer. 

Jaskier had been in the kitchen, washing the handful of dishes still in the sink, when he heard Geralt stir. He came into the living room just in time to see him, eyes still only half open, bring his arm up to cover his mouth as he succumbed to a round of coughing. 

“Come on,” Jaskier encouraged, “let’s sit up. This will help.” He wasn’t sure who he was trying to reassure more. He helped Geralt sit fully upright, and this seemed to help. Still, Jaskier held his breath until the coughing stopped, praying Geralt’s nose wouldn’t start bleeding again. 

Once he finally finished, Jaskier offered him his water bottle and Geralt took it, taking several long drinks before setting it down half empty on the coffee table. 

Good, Jaskier thought. If he’s not going to eat, then the least he can do is stay hydrated.

“Did you have a good nap?” Jaskier asked after he was sure Geralt had his breath back, doing his best to sound cheerful.

“Yeah,” Geralt said, his voice cracking. 

He still looked pretty out of it. Jaskier wasn’t sure if it was because he wasn’t fully awake yet, or if it was the fever. Probably a mixture of the two. 

He laid a hand on Geralt’s forehead. Sure enough, he was still burning up. Jaskier did his best not to let himself worry. They were going back to A&E. If something was really wrong they’d know soon enough, and the doctors there would be able to do much more to help Geralt than he could. 

Geralt leaned into Jaskier’s hand on his forehead, closing his eyes and letting his head fall to Jaskier’s shoulder when he took his hand away. Jaskier put an arm around him, pulling him in close. 

“I know,” he said. “Things are going to be better soon though. We just need to go to A&E and we’ll figure out what’s wrong, okay?”

Geralt nodded, lifting his head and finally meeting Jaskier’s eyes. 

“Do you feel up to having something to eat before we go?” Jaskier asked. He thought he already knew the answer, but it was worth a shot.

Sure enough though, Geralt shook his head. 

He didn’t look like he was up for much more than laying back down, but Jaskier knew they had to go back and get him checked out, and putting it off would do more harm than good in the long run. 

“Would you let me fix your hair before we go?” Jaskier asked. 

This was enough to get a half smile from Geralt. He brought his hand up to the tangled mess of white hair around his shoulders. 

“That bad huh?” 

“I just think you’ll be more comfortable if it’s out of your face,” he explained mostly truthfully. “It’ll only take a minute.” 

“Whatever you want, love.” 

*** 

Jaskier asked to braid Geralt’s hair on a fairly regular basis, but he didn’t often take him up on the offer. Jaskier insisted it must drive him crazy to have his hair in his face all the time, but Geralt really didn’t mind. He honestly preferred it that way, but in these circumstances Jaskier was probably right. 

The fever made his skin feel a thousand times more sensitive, it seemed like, so having his hair out of his face and up off his neck for once seemed like a welcome offer. And Jaskier was so gentle. 

He didn’t pull once in the several minutes it took to untangle and brush his mess of hair. Letting dry in a bun had been a mistake. Just like he’d promised though, in a matter of minutes it was all neatly woven into a braid. 

“Thank you.”  
He looked up at Jaskier, wishing he could think of a better way to tell Jaskier how grateful he was for everything he’d been doing for him. He couldn’t find the words through the fevered fog in his brain. Jaskier seemed to know what he meant though, even if it wasn’t in so many words. 

“Of course.”

Now all that was left was to get dressed and go. He opted to stay in his sweatpants, but he accepted the hoodie Jaskier brought him, reluctantly tying his shoes while he tried to make peace with the fact that it would probably be several more hours before he could go back to bed. 

Sweatshirt on and shoes tied, Geralt couldn’t avoid this any longer. Jaskier offered him a hand up and Geralt took it, letting his boyfriend lead him out of his apartment. 

A&E was only a few minutes from where Geralt lived so before he knew it he was back in the dreaded waiting room. It was less crowded today, but not by much. Hopefully the coughing up blood would push him up the queue this time. He was looking forward to figuring out what was going on, but his curiosity wasn’t enough to cancel out his deep desire to be at home and in bed. 

It only took a few minutes to fill out the intake paperwork and then he and Jaskier were again just sitting and waiting. He laid his head on Jaskier’s shoulder, trying to get comfortable in the hard waiting room chairs. 

Desperate for something to distract him from how terrible he felt, Geralt pulled out his phone. He was surprised to find it blown up with unread text messages. 

“Hey, we missed you last night! Can’t wait to go out again once you’re feeling better:)” 

“Hope you feel better soon, mate.” 

“Geralt, I didn’t get the chance to talk to you after the game yesterday, but I wanted to thank you for a great season. I hope you feel better soon.” 

There were messages like this from almost every member of the team. He’d felt terrible about missing the celebrations last night, but he didn’t think it had mattered much to everyone else. These messages told a very different story. 

He still felt awful, but seeing all the texts from his teammates definitely lifted his spirits. And at this point, he appreciated any bit of happiness he could get.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all, howwasthefun_vee did some absolutely incredible art of Rugby Geralt! You should check it out:) Her tumblr is @lookatgeraltmyboi
> 
> :)


	18. Chapter 18

The waiting was the worst part. Jaskier sat with Geralt for almost an hour and a half before the nurse came to call him back, and this had been unpleasant, of course, but at least then Jaskier had Geralt right there next to him, and the distraction of tending to him. Now that Geralt was gone, he had nothing but his own thoughts, which were quickly spiraling into panic.

What if there’s something really wrong?

What if they were wrong about the flu, and he really had pneumonia? 

What if there was an even worse problem which was simply brought to light by the illness and injury, which had before gone undetected? 

Every time a nurse came out to the waiting room he held his breath, sure they were coming to tell him they were admitting Geralt. 

Again, he felt his heartbeat start to race, his breathing become shallow and far too quick, not giving him enough oxygen. This time, without Geralt with him to keep him grounded, he feared this might escalate to a full blown panic attack. He thought back to when this had happened to him before, the chest pain, the crying; he couldn’t do this now. 

He made himself stand up and go find a vending machine, buying himself a water bottle and spending a few minutes pacing in the deserted hallway focusing on his breathing and getting his heart rate back down to normal. Everything was fine. He’d done everything he could, and Geralt was at the hospital now. If something bad really was going, this was the safest place for him to be. 

Once he was satisfied he’d gotten his breathing back to normal, he went back to his chair in the waiting room, taking small sips of the cool water. 

The bottle was nearly empty by the time Geralt returned. 

As soon as he was back in the waiting room, Jaskier shot up, desperate to know what was going on. As Geralt approached though, Jaskier noticed the dejected look on his face. He bit his tongue, holding back his questions until he was able to figure out how upset Geralt was. 

He reached out and grabbed Jaskier’s hand. 

“Can you take me home please,” he asked, his tone low and wavering. 

Jaskier nodded, taking a moment to find his own voice. 

“Of course, love.” 

Neither of them spoke for the whole car ride back to Geralt’s apartment. Jaskier was dying to know what was going on, but Geralt looked like he might start crying, so Jaskier didn’t push it. His knuckles were white, gripping the steering wheel too hard in an attempt to manage his nervous energy. 

By the time they were back in his apartment though, Jaskier couldn’t take it anymore. 

“What happened?” he asked. “What did they say.” 

Geralt walked over to the couch and sat down before answering. 

“It isn’t that big of a deal,” he said, his voice thick. From congestion or emotion, Jaskier didn’t know. 

“I shouldn’t be upset.” 

The suspense was killing him. 

“Upset about what?” 

Geralt sighed. 

“Apparently since everything looked like it was aligned when I went in yesterday, they thought the break in my nose would heal fine on its own,” he began. “But it turns out there’s more damage under the surface which wasn’t obvious at first.” 

“Okay,” Jaskier said, cautious, hoping he kept explaining. 

“That’s why it keeps bleeding,” Geralt continued. “I’m going to have to have surgery to correct it.” 

There it was. 

“They said they wanted to do it next week, as long as I was over the flu by then. Because of the bleeding, they want to get it done right away, but they said they can push it back a little bit if they have to.” 

“I’m so sorry, Geralt.” 

He’d never admit it, but a part of him was relieved. He hated that Geralt had to go through this, but all of this was fixable. He would be okay. 

Geralt’s outlook didn’t appear to be quite as positive. 

He stood up again, his hands clenching and unclenching as he paced around the small living room. He was frustrated, and he had every right to be. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” Jaskier asked, not sure how to help. 

This seemed to be enough. 

“It’s not fair.” 

“What’s not fair?” 

He closed his eyes for a moment, eyebrows furrowing as he considered his response. 

“I feel like shit, and I’m going to feel like shit for weeks now. I’m not going to be able to play rugby for months. I can’t breathe. I can’t kiss my boyfriend. I can’t fucking sleep,” he complained. 

It hurt Jaskier to see him so upset, but he was glad Geralt was talking about it, rather than internalizing everything as he so often did. 

“All because some guy wanted a better shot at winning a rugby game. It’s all so stupid.” 

He was crying now. Tears spilled across his bruised cheeks. 

He sat back down on the couch next to Jaskier and pressed his forehead against his boyfriend’s shoulder as he began to cry in earnest. 

“It isn’t fair,” Jaskier agreed. “What he did to you was terrible. You have every right to be upset. This really sucks, Geralt. I am so sorry.” 

Jaskier put his arm around him and rubbed his back. The crying made him nervous, not only because Geralt hardly ever cried, but also because he was scared his nose might start bleeding again. 

“I’m just so tired,” Geralt choked out. 

Jaskier sighed, sure he must be absolutely exhausted with everything that had happened in the past two days. It was one thing after another, with no time between to catch his breath. Hopefully now that they knew what was going on he might finally be able to rest. Somehow between the flu and the broken nose though, he feared this still might not be the case. 

“I know,” Jaskier commiserated. “But you have time to rest now before anything else happens. It’s going to be okay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a terrible headache when I wrote this. That's kind of like method acting, right?  
> Also, spot the Netflix Witcher reference


	19. Chapter 19

Jaskier held Geralt as he cried. He tried to offer comforting sentiments, but any sort of added emotion just seemed to make things worse. Jaskier understood. He’d been in this position plenty of times himself and always just having Geralt there to hold him was enough. He’d cry himself out in his boyfriend’s arms and then by the time he was finished Geralt was still right there, and things didn’t seem so bad. 

Always one to push the envelope, Geralt’s crying session couldn’t end so simply. Jaskier had gotten himself comfortable, Geralt nestled into his side, waiting for him to stop crying. He was startled when Geralt jerked away from him. 

“Fuck.” 

He turned his head to see Geralt, still crying, with both hands cupped over his nose. 

“Okay,” Jaskier ushered him up off the couch. “Let’s not get blood on the rug.” 

Somehow he managed not to get any blood on the floor, but this was nothing short of a miracle since by the time they made it to the bathroom it was dripping from under Geralt’s hands and down his chin. Jaskier reached out to pull his sweatshirt sleeves up from his wrists in an attempt to keep them from soaking up the blood which covered Geralt’s hands. 

And of course this whole debacle just made the crying worse. Jaskier couldn’t imagine how frustrating this must be for him.

The sobs were just making everything worse too, escalating the whole situation from inconvenient to a little scary if Jaskier was being honest. 

“Love, you need to breathe,” Jaskier said.

Geralt was full on hyperventilating now and Jaskier was starting to worry he might faint. 

He tried to take deep breaths, but this just led to a lot of choking and coughing as he tried to regulate his breathing through the sobs. 

If it weren’t for the nosebleed Jaskier would have him sit down and put his head between his knees, but they wouldn’t be able to manage that without getting absolutely covered in blood. 

“Come on love,” he encouraged, “inhale, exhale.” 

It was clear he was trying. There was immense difficulty in regulating the sobbing and coughing. 

It took much longer than Jaskier would have liked, but finally Geralt was able to even out his breathing enough to quit coughing. The nosebleed ended a few minutes later. 

“There we go,” Jaskier said. “That’s better.” 

Geralt looked up at him, his eyes red and his face covered in blood. He looked exhausted. Jaskier’s heart broke for him. 

“Let’s get you cleaned up, okay?” 

He gave Geralt a small smile. 

Geralt didn’t protest as Jaskier wet a rag and started, as gently as he could, wiping the blood from his face. At least this time his clothes seemed to be spared. And a good thing too, it would be a lot harder to get blood out of his sweatshirt than it had been to wash it from his plain white t-shirt. 

“Do you want to go lay down?” Jaskier asked once he was satisfied all the blood had been cleaned up. He’d wipe down the counter and sink again the next time Geralt slept. 

“Your bed isn’t made, but it would only take me a few minutes to put the sheets on if you wanted to lay in bed.” 

Geralt shook his head, still leaning over the sink. He spit out a mouth full of blood before he answered. 

“I feel sick.” 

Jaskier sighed. He was afraid this might happen. Between the coughing and the crying he must have swallowed a fair bit of blood, and on a stomach already weakened by the flu it wouldn’t take much to upset it. 

“Do you feel like you’re going to throw up?” He asked, hoping against hope that Geralt would say no. 

Geralt took a long moment to think with his eyes closed before he answered. 

“Yes.” 

“Okay.” 

Jaskier put a hand on his shoulder and gently shepherded him down so he was kneeling in front of the toilet. 

“I don’t want to.” There was an edge of panic in his voice. “How do I stop it?” 

He was no doubt thinking back to Jaskier’s magic act with the crackers this morning, but this was a whole different scenario.

“I don’t think you can, love,” Jaskier told him, trying to sound as sympathetic as possible. “You just have to get it out of your system. You’ll feel a lot better once you do.” 

Geralt moaned. He hated throwing up. 

“I know. It’ll be over soon.” 

It wasn’t over soon. 

After ten minutes of sitting and waiting, Jaskier started to doubt himself. Maybe he was wrong, and the nausea would pass on its own. 

No. It didn’t appear to be going anywhere, Geralt still looked miserable and sick a full fifteen minutes later. His face was ashen, and maybe it was just the lighting in the bathroom, but Jaskier swore he looked a little bit green. 

Whether it was Geralt’s own dislike for vomiting which was keeping him, either consciously or subconsciously, from purging the blood from his system, or something else entirely, Jaskier didn’t know. 

What he did know was that Geralt would feel so much better if he just got it over with. 

“Geralt, I promise it will feel good to get it out of your system,” he said. “I know it’s counterintuitive, but I swear it’s the truth.” 

Jaskier was often the mom of his friend group, especially in situations where people were getting drunk, so he’d been in this position plenty of times. Never with Geralt though. 

If this were one of his friends, blacked out and refusing to throw up, he’d usually just pull the trigger himself, but Geralt was sober, and he’d been through enough already today. Still, it seemed like he might need some sort of encouragement. It was so frustrating because Jaskier knew just how much better he’d feel once it was over, but telling him that wouldn’t be enough to get him past the mental block he’d set up. 

“Do you want something to help?” Jaskier asked. 

“Please,” Geralt whimpered, barely audible. 

“Alright,” he sighed, getting up and going into the kitchen. If this didn’t work he wasn’t sure what he’d do. 

He started the tap, getting a cup and Geralt’s salt shaker as he waited for the water to warm up. 

He walked back into the bathroom a minute or so later with a cup of warm salt water.

“This should speed things up.” 

“Thank you.” His voice was barely a whisper. 

Sure enough, this seemed to do the trick. It only took half the glass before Geralt was leaning over the toilet and emptying his stomach. 

Jaskier rubbed circles in his back. 

“There you go. That’s it.” 

He finished a minute or so later, and Jaskier emptied the salt water, rinsing out the cup and filling it with plain water from the bathroom sink and offering it to Geralt. His hand shook as he reached for it, but he didn’t spill. 

“Better?” Jaskier asked. 

Geralt nodded. 

“Are you ready to go lay down now?” 

“Please.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I’m actually addicted to writing whump lmao  
> You guys are a bunch of enablers


	20. Chapter 20

Geralt let Jaskier take his hand and lead him back into the living room. He felt unsteady and lightheaded. All he wanted to do was lay down. Jaskier draped the blanket over his body as he tried his best to get comfortable on the couch. 

It wasn’t as comfortable as he had hoped, but he figured this was probably the best he was going to get. It wasn’t the couch’s fault his whole body ached and his skin was so sensitive his clothes almost hurt. He put his own hand against his forehead, curious, but of course he wouldn’t be able to tell anything. 

Jaskier must be curious too, because he went back into the bathroom and returned with a thermometer. 

He sat with Geralt and gently stroked his hair as he waited with the thermometer in his mouth. 

It was a bit hard to manage since he couldn’t really breathe through his nose, but he managed to get a reading. After what seemed like forever, it finally beeped. 

“Thirty nine point three,” he read. 

This evoked a sympathetic noise from Jaskier. 

“I think you’ll feel better if you have something to eat and take some medicine,” he said. 

Geralt groaned. He really really didn’t want to throw up again, and he wasn’t sure if his stomach could handle anything other than water right now. 

“Just enough so you can take some medicine. Remember how much better you felt this morning after you had something to eat?” 

He had a point. Geralt really didn’t want to do anything but lay here and feel sorry for himself, but Jaskier hadn’t been wrong yet. And if this meant he could get some more sleep, then he couldn’t afford not to try. 

“Are there any more crackers?” Geralt asked. He felt reasonably confident he could keep crackers down. 

Jaskier looked relieved to see him agreeing to eat. 

“Yes! I can bring you some crackers.” 

Geralt spent the next half hour or so eating about half of the sleeve of crackers and drinking the cup of juice Jaskier had brought him as well. 

He was right of course, and once he finished eating and took another painkiller he felt a lot more comfortable. He curled up under the blanket again, but just as he closed his eyes he felt Jaskier stand up from where he’d been sitting on the other end of the couch.

“Wait,” he opened his eyes, “where are you going?” 

“I was going to go disinfect the bathroom,” he said. “Did you need something else?” 

“Oh.” 

Geralt didn’t need anything per se, but he didn’t want Jaskier to leave. 

“Is everything okay?” Jaskier asked. 

“I was just hoping you’d lay with me,” Geralt said, a little bit sheepishly. 

Jaskier smiled. 

“Of course I will.” 

***

The couch really wasn’t big enough for both of them laid out like this. Neither of them were small guys, but somehow they made it work, Jaskier sitting up against the armrest with Geralt curled up against his chest, his body bundled in a blanket. 

Jaskier slipped his arm under the blanket so he could slowly run his hand up and down Geralt’s back. He felt helpless. There was so little he could do to help his ailing boyfriend, but he wanted so badly for him to feel better. 

“My sweet boy,” he lulled, continuing to rub his back. “I’m sorry you feel so sick.” 

“It’s okay.” His voice was sad and croaky. “It’s my fault anyway,” he mumbled. “I shouldn’t have played.” 

Jaskier’s heart ached for him. 

“You might have made a bad decision,” he said, “but you didn’t do anything so foolish to deserve this. This is just unlucky.” 

“Maybe,” Geralt ceded. He sounded unconvinced, and a little like he might start crying again. This wouldn’t do. 

“It’ll be alright. You’ll feel better soon,” Jaskier assured him.

“Are you angry with me?” Geralt asked. “For not calling.” 

Jaskier thought for a moment. Had he been angry? No. He’d been scared. 

“I’m sad that you thought you didn’t deserve to have someone come take care of you. And worried that my sleeping mattered more to you than you getting help.” 

“I’m sorry,” Geralt replied. “Really I am. I made a mistake, and it won’t happen again.” 

“My poor, sweet boy,” Jaskier said, not quite sure what to do with him. He was well intentioned, but he just kept making the wrong call. “I just want you to be safe. And you deserve to be comfortable, even if it means being a little bit of an inconvenience for awhile.” 

“But you deserve to be comfortable too,” he responded. 

Jaskier chuckled. “Love, I’m not the one with the broken nose and the flu. I don’t think you should be worried about anybody but yourself right now. You’d do the same for me if the roles were reversed.” 

He knew this was true, without a doubt. Even if Geralt didn’t have as much experience dealing with illness, he knew he’d be there doing whatever he could to help. 

“Do you remember last year when I went to class with a migraine because I had a test that day,” Jaskier began, “and by the time I finished the test it had gotten so bad that I knew I wouldn’t be able to get back home on my own, so I called you and you walked all the way from your apartment to come get me?” 

Geralt chuckled. 

“I remember seeing you sitting on the front steps of the lecture hall,” Geralt replied, “and you looked so sick, but your face still lit up when you saw me coming.” 

Jaskier could hear Geralt’s words starting to slur ever so slightly. Hopefully this meant the painkiller was doing its job. 

“Because you came to rescue me,” Jaskier said. “It felt nice to be able to rely on somebody.” 

“And then I carried you all the way back to your apartment, because the bus wasn’t coming for another half an hour, and you looked so miserable.” 

Jaskier smiled. It had been a terrible time, one of the worst migraines he’d ever had, but Geralt had still managed to turn it into a good memory. 

“And the next weekend you came over and put up blackout curtains in my room. For the next time I got a migraine, you said. You took care of me,” Jaskier explained. “Let me take care of you.” 

“I will.” 

“So what can I do to help?” He knew there was little to be done, and maybe it was unfair to ask, but he wanted so badly for Geralt to feel even a little bit better. 

“Just lay with me,” Geralt replied. “And hold me until things aren’t so bad anymore.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey y'all. No update tomorrow bc I work all afternoon and then I'm gonna get drunk and watch the superbowl with my dad lmao.  
> I hope you all have a good day though! And if you're watching the superbowl too I hope you're rooting for the Chiefs;)


	21. Chapter 21

Jaskier couldn’t believe that after everything he’d endured the night before, Geralt would still insist he’d be fine spending the night alone. 

He had little energy in him for arguing though, and once Jaskier brought up his words from earlier in the day—reminding him that this decision was one of the mistakes he’d told Jaskier he wouldn’t be making anymore—he conceded. 

“I just feel bad because you have an early class tomorrow.” 

This was true, and waking up for it was a struggle in the best of times, but he could endure a sleepy morning lecture if it meant he knew Geralt was safe. 

“I’m not going to be able to sleep if I’m at home worrying you’re over here suffering,” he said. 

This didn’t seem to do anything to lessen his guilt. 

“I’ll skip the class if I need to.” 

This was not true. He couldn’t afford to miss class this late in the term, but Geralt didn’t need to know that. 

Geralt seemed satisfied enough with this. Jaskier knew he didn’t really want to be alone, he just felt bad about being an inconvenience. 

The rest of the afternoon and evening passed relatively without incident, and both boys were happy to turn in early. By nine Geralt was settled in bed and Jaskier was set up on the couch. Was it too much to hope that they’d both sleep through the night? 

They managed for a few hours, but of course all good things must come to an end. 

Jaskier was roused by the sound of harsh, grating coughs coming from Geralt’s bedroom. He dragged himself up off the couch, rubbing his eyes and trying to wake himself up before he got to Geralt’s room.

He walked in to find Geralt sitting up against the headboard, his shirt off and all of the covers pushed down to the end of the bed. He had his knees pulled up and his arms wrapped around his chest. 

“Hey,” Jaskier said, his own voice thick with sleep. “What’s going on?” 

Geralt had been sitting with his head down, but he looked up when Jaskier spoke. 

His eyes were bloodshot and still half closed. 

“Jaskier,” he mumbled. “Go back to bed. I’m fine.”

“Love, I didn’t stay the night here so I could ignore you. If I wanted to ignore you my bed at home is a lot more comfortable than your couch.” 

“You have class in the morning.” Geralt argued. 

“You’re absolutely ridiculous. Do you know that? Now tell me what’s wrong.” 

Geralt sighed, leaning his head back against the headboard, his teeth gritted. 

“It hurts.”

This was followed by another bout of coughing. Jaskier waited until he was sure it was done before he spoke. 

“What hurts?” 

“Everything.” 

His voice was nearly gone by now, but the pain in it was still evident. 

“Can you be any more specific, love?” Jaskier asked. “I want to help. What pain is the worst?” 

“My head,” he answered, “and my nose. But fuck, it’s everything. My whole body aches, my fucking skin hurts.” 

Jaskier nodded. 

“That’ll be the fever.” 

He didn’t need to feel Geralt’s forehead to tell it was spiking. His whole chest was covered in a sheen of sweat, and the few wisps of hair which had escaped his braid were damp and stuck to his forehead. 

Jaskier was frustrated for him. He deserved sleep. He deserved to get better, but every time he got the chance, something else happened. It was exhausting. 

***

Geralt was lost. He pulled himself from a nightmare, only to wake and find himself in an equally terrible situation. He was boiling underneath his covers, and his shirt was plastered to his chest with sweat. 

He pushed all the blankets off of himself and fumbled with his shirt, his hands not wanting to cooperate. It felt as if all of his senses had been dialed up to eleven while his cognitive ability was shot to hell. He couldn’t think. He couldn’t do anything but lay here, subject to this onslaught of sensory input. The sheets were like sandpaper against his skin. Every movement sent a stab of pain through his head from behind his eyes. And through it all, his nose throbbed, adding to the pain in his head and making it feel as if he was suffocating. He focused on taking slow deep breaths through his mouth until he was hit with another bout of coughing. He scrambled to sit up, propping himself up against the headboard and willing himself to stop coughing before he got another nosebleed.

He sat, his arms wrapped around his chest, lacking the energy to move them even after the coughing ended. His head dipped forward and he left it there, his chin to his chest. He didn’t look up until he heard the door open. 

It was Jaskier. 

It took all of Geralt’s concentration to carry on their short conversation. 

“That’ll be the fever.” 

The fever. It was cooking his brain. This must be why he couldn’t seem to form a coherent thought. 

He didn’t notice Jaskier had left until he returned. 

He was saying something, but Geralt didn’t catch everything past the pain in his head, which was only exacerbated by the sound of Jaskier’s voice and the light coming in from the hallway. 

Jaskier pressed something cool into his hands. 

“Over your eyes.” 

Geralt just caught the end of it, but he got the idea. He pressed what he now realized was a bag of ice wrapped in a towel, against his eyes. He let out a relieved breath. It helped. 

He then felt Jaskier put a cool wet cloth on the back of his neck. 

“Thank you,” he mumbled. 

Jaskier spent the next minute or so wiping down Geralt’s bare torso with another cool cloth. 

He was so incredibly grateful for Jaskier. He’d been a fool to try and send him home. But still he felt guilty. He should be able to take care of himself, and as much as he loved Jaskier, this simply wasn’t sustainable. 

Something was going to have to change.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just a heads up, I've got midterms and a ton of schoolwork this week, so apologies in advance if I miss a couple of days.  
> New character coming soon tho👀  
> Any guesses??


	22. Chapter 22

Jaskier was no stranger to headaches. He’d suffered from migraines since he was a teenager, so Geralt’s description of pain so bad it made his skin hurt felt, unfortunately, very familiar. But while Jaskier’s pain was only ever caused by migraines, Geralt’s was no doubt a product of his high fever. 

If he got his temperature down, the pain should lessen. At least he hoped this was the case. Geralt wasn’t able to do much to communicate, so Jaskier decided to just do for him what he often did for himself in times like this. 

He brought Geralt an ice pack to help lessen the pain in his head and nose, and then put a cool cloth on the back of his neck and wiped his chest down to try and lower his body temperature. The cloths warmed up almost immediately. 

He could feel the heat radiating off of Geralt’s chest, and he wanted to know what his body temperature was, but not badly enough to make Geralt sit with the thermometer in his mouth. 

His methods seemed to work though, and after sitting with the ice pack over his eyes for about half an hour, he noticed Geralt starting to doze. He breathed a sigh of relief, gently taking the ice out of Geralt’s hands. 

“Get some sleep, okay?” He whispered, just loud enough for Geralt to hear. “I’ll be on the couch if you need anything.” 

But he was already asleep. 

Jaskier trudged back to the couch, already half asleep himself. He managed to sleep for another hour or so before he was roused again by Geralt’s coughing. 

Again, he found his boyfriend scorching hot with fever and struggling to stop that terrible, grating coughing. It made Jaskier’s own throat hurt just to listen. He remembered how worried he’d been about the hospital deciding to admit Geralt, but now he wondered if it would have really been such a bad thing. He felt as if there was nothing he could do to help. 

“Did they say anything about going back into A&E?” He asked. 

When he had called the emergency number originally they had said to bring him in   
if he kept coughing up blood or if his fever spiked. But he wasn’t sure if something had changed since the second visit. 

“What?” Geralt asked. 

He still seemed so out of it. 

“The doctor,” Jaskier prompted. “Did they say anything about going back into A&E.” 

This time he seemed to get it. 

“Just if I had trouble breathing.” 

“Are you having any trouble breathing?” Jaskier asked. 

He shook his head. 

“I can breathe fine when I’m not coughing.” 

Well that was good to hear at least. 

Jaskier refreshed the damp cloth on the back of Geralt’s neck and waited with him until he fell asleep. 

After the third or fourth time doing this Jaskier ended up falling asleep sitting up next to him in bed, too tired to make himself walk back out to the couch when he knew he’d just be getting right back up. 

This routine continued until the inevitable happened and Geralt “spiraled,” as he’d so eloquently put it before. 

By three in the morning his nose was bleeding again and all hope of sleep for the rest of the night was lost. 

At least this time he avoided getting blood all over the sheets. 

Geralt resumed his position above the sink, victim to the relentless cycle of coughing and bleeding for what seemed like eternity. He looked so tired that Jaskier took pity on him and went and got a big metal bowl from the kitchen so he didn’t have to stand up over the sink. 

He spent the next few hours battling the coughing and the nausea and the bleeding from the bathroom floor. Jaskier dutifully kept a cool cloth on the back of his neck, and tried to coax as much water into Geralt as possible. He wanted to get some medicine into him, but it was enough of a struggle just to get him to keep water down; medicine seemed like a lost cause. He did retrieve the old box fan from the back of the hall closet and set it up just outside the bathroom door, hoping this might help keep Geralt comfortable while maybe working to break the fever, which didn’t appear to be going anywhere but up. Geralt had stripped down to just his boxers, but he was still soaked in sweat. 

By the time he was in a place where Geralt could lay down in bed again, Jaskier had to start getting ready for class. His lecture started at eight, and he’d been hoping to go home first to shower and change, but it was already after seven. If he wanted to shower he’d have to do it here. 

“Can I borrow something to wear?” Jaskier asked, walking into Geralt’s room, where he lay sprawled out on top of the covers. 

“Of course, love,” Geralt rasped. “Take whatever you want.” 

Jaskier kept the bedroom lights off, picking out the first long sleeve shirt and pair of sweats he could find. 

“I’m going to take a shower, but I’ll come in and say goodbye before I leave.” 

He barely had enough time to shower and change, but he still made sure to check in with Geralt before he headed out. 

He was still awake when Jaskier re-entered his room. There hadn’t been any time to dry his hair, and he wasn’t looking forward to going out into the chilly morning with wet hair, but the shower had done a good job of waking him up, and between that and the clean clothes he felt refreshed. 

“I’ll be back around ten,” he said. 

“Okay,” Geralt said, looking up at him. 

“I’ll keep my phone on. If you need anything just text me.” 

Geralt gave him a small smile. 

“Thank you. I love you.” 

Jaskier walked over and kissed him on the forehead, already looking forward to coming back after class was over. 

“I love you too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s only Tuesday and this week is already kicking my ass   
> If any of you know how reflexive verbs in Spanish work hmu. I’ve got a midterm Thursday which I am woefully unprepared for lmao


	23. Chapter 23

Jaskier slid into his seat just as the class began. He was definitely late, but it was a big lecture hall, so hopefully the professor wouldn’t notice. 

It felt strange to be back in the real world. He’d spent all weekend shut in either Geralt’s apartment, or under the ever bright fluorescents of the A&E waiting room. His sleeping and eating schedule had been completely thrown out the window, so being back in class really felt like a hard reset for him. It was like waking up after a very long, very tiring dream. 

It wasn’t until he was sitting down in class that he even noticed what he was wearing. He’d picked his outfit blindly, not caring at the time, but now that he was back in public, he wanted to make sure he looked alright. 

His pants were a pair of plain grey sweatpants, and his shirt was from one rugby tournament or another, some traveling thing Geralt had done with his team last summer. Jaskier couldn’t help but laugh to himself. If a stranger saw him in this, would they think it was his? 

The closest thing Jaskier ever got to being a rugby player was when he’d been forced to play in school as a boy. He’d done everything he could to avoid getting the ball—not because he was afraid of getting hurt, but because he simply had no interest in it. He hadn’t had an interest in any sport before he met Geralt, and even now he only really liked watching games if Geralt was one of the players.

He spent the rest of the lecture with his mind wandering like this. He told himself it was okay because he got the attendance points and he was able to get a copy of the notes from the girl who sat next to him. He’d go over them later when he wasn’t so tired. And he’d have to go get his own school stuff from his flat before his next class. 

The cool air of the morning helped wake him up a bit as he was leaving the lecture hall, but the entire two hours he’d spent inside had been a battle to stay awake. 

He’d need some help if he was going to make it through the rest of today. His phone had been silent throughout the whole class though, no texts from Geralt, so Jaskier figured he would be fine to get a coffee, and stop by his apartment before going back to Geralt’s place. Hopefully Geralt was asleep, and he wouldn’t even notice Jaskier’s extended absence. 

He wasn’t asleep though, and when he walked into Geralt’s apartment, a coffee in one hand for himself and a smoothie for Geralt in the other, Jaskier found him sitting up on the couch with his laptop open. 

He looked up when the door opened, his eyes lighting up as he realized Jaskier had brought something for him. 

“My hero.” 

Jaskier winced. His voice was completely gone. He was sitting up though, and he appeared lucid, which was a huge improvement from when Jaskier had left this morning. 

Jaskier handed him the smoothie, relieved that he seemed excited to drink it. 

“Did you get any more sleep?” Jaskier asked. 

Geralt shook his head. 

“I’ve been emailing my professors to make sure my absences are excused, and trying to get classmates to take notes for me.” 

“And have you been successful?” 

Geralt nodded, coughing again. 

“Think so,” he said once he got his breath back. 

Jaskier put a hand on his forehead, preparing himself for the scorching temperature from last night. It was still much too warm, but cooler than it had been before. A step in the right direction. 

“How was class?” Geralt asked. “Interesting?” The laptop was now closed on the coffee table, Geralt laying down wrapped up in a blanket, the smoothie cradled in one arm. 

Jaskier chuckled. 

“I’ll let you know after I read the notes. I didn’t catch much of it—pretty focused on staying awake.” 

Geralt’s expression soured. Jaskier had been speaking jokingly, of course, but it seemed to upset his boyfriend. 

“I’m sorry, Jask. It’s my fault for keeping you up.” 

“No, it’s fine. I got the attendance points; that’s all I was worried about,” Jaskier assured him. 

“What time is your next class?” Geralt asked. 

“Not until one.” 

He needed to do some schoolwork before then, but he could do that well enough from the couch. 

“Do you want to put on a movie or something?” Jaskier asked. 

Hopefully Geralt would go back to sleep soon, and Jaskier worked best with something on in the background. 

“Sure, love.” Geralt smiled up at him. 

Jaskier put on something they’d both seen enough times to be able to ignore, then proceeded to dump out his school bag on the coffee table. He was usually good about being able to go over things in his head and figure out what he needed to do, but he was tired, and he knew if he didn’t have everything spread out in front of him he’d forget something. 

Geralt watched him with mild interest as he stared at the mess of textbooks and notebooks for a minute or two, making a mental list of what he needed to do, so he could figure out what to work on first. He finally decided on music theory, pulling that notebook from the pile and putting everything else in a neat stack. 

“I don’t know how you do that,” Geralt said. 

“Do what?” Jaskier asked, not looking up from the notebook in his lap. 

“Keep track of all of your assignments in your head like that.” 

Geralt was meticulous. He had all of his work in folders and all of his assignments written down in a planner. Jaskier on the other hand, kept his papers tucked into notebooks and folded up in his book bag. He had no system for organization, and he knew this baffled Geralt. 

The truth was, he didn’t do it very well. He often forgot about assignments until the last minute, or relied on setting alarms or scrawling post it note to do lists whenever he remembered he had something due later. It was a deeply flawed system, but Jaskier had managed to make it work for his whole education so far. 

“Umm, mostly luck,” he answered. 

He was happy to hear this get a small laugh from Geralt. 

Hopefully this meant the worst was behind them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A small break for the boy


	24. Chapter 24

Jaskier snapped awake, scrambling to grab his phone and check the time. 

12:52

“Fuck.” 

He hadn’t meant to fall asleep. He must have dozed off working on his homework.

“What?” Geralt asked, Jaskier’s exclamation having woken him up as well. 

“I’m late.” 

He had a voice lesson across campus at one. There was no way he’d be there on time. He should have set an alarm. He should have known something like this was going to happen. 

He reached out and grabbed his music folder, stuffing his phone into his pocket as he stood up from the couch. 

He turned around for just long enough to say goodbye to Geralt and tell him he’d be back later in the afternoon. Then he was rushing out to his car, fumbling with his keys in his hurry. 

It was 1:05 by the time he made it to the music building, and by the time he was at his voice teacher’s office he was flustered and out of breath from running up the stairs. 

“Sorry I’m late,” he apologized, trying to even out his breathing. 

“It’s fine, Jaskier,” his voice teacher assured him. 

He was a kind, older man, and Jaskier had been his student since his first year at university, so he knew Jaskier pretty well. He knew him well enough to see that something was going on. 

“Is everything alright?” he asked. 

“What?” Jaskier looked up from where he’d been rifling through his music folder. “Oh, everything’s fine,” he lied, dropping his gaze back down to his music. He swore. This was the wrong folder.

“Sorry,” he apologized. “I must have grabbed the wrong folder. This is my piano music.” 

He tried to make it sound like this didn’t upset him, but between not having his music and being late, he was quickly becoming overwhelmed. 

His voice teacher seemed to notice this, because he ushered Jaskier over to the chair in front of his desk, and motioned for him to sit. 

“That’s okay. Why don’t we just talk for a minute. What’s going on?” 

Jaskier sighed, waiting to speak until his teacher had taken his seat as well. 

“It’s nothing, really,” Jaskier began. 

His voice teacher gave him a pointed look. 

“It’s just my boyfriend broke his nose playing rugby this weekend, and on top of that he has the flu,” he began. “So I was at A&E all afternoon Saturday and Sunday, and I was with him at his apartment the rest of the time.” He was really picking up speed now. “And I didn’t get any sleep all weekend, so I accidentally fell asleep doing homework after class this morning. That’s why I’m late. And I must have grabbed the wrong folder in my rush to try and make it here on time. I’m really sorry.” 

“It’s alright, Jaskier,” his voice teacher reassured him again. “There’s no need to apologize. You’re doing fine with your pieces this term. I’m not worried about you being unprepared for the final concert. We don’t have to sing today. You can take this time to decompress. It sounds like you’ve had a rough couple of days. Can I make you a cup of tea?” 

Jaskier considered saying no, but what would that achieve? Even if he were to sing today, it wouldn’t be his music, so it probably would be a better use of his time to just try and let go of some of this stress. It was tempting to try and push through this, but his teacher had a point. Pretending like everything was fine would be counterproductive at this point. 

“That would be wonderful, thank you.” 

A comfortable silence settled over the office while he put on water for tea, neither of them speaking until the tea was ready. 

“Now, do you want to tell me what’s bothering you?” he asked once they both had their tea. 

Jaskier gave him a confused look. “I just told you.” 

“You told me why you were late, and why you didn’t have your music, but you didn’t tell me why you seem so upset. Do you want to talk about it? It’s fine if you don’t want to, but I’m worried. You seem a little overwhelmed.” 

Jaskier took a second to consider this before answering. 

“I’m just so tired,” he admitted, surprised by the lump which formed in his throat. 

His teacher nodded sympathetically. “It sounds like it. Are you going to be able to get some rest soon?” 

Jaskier took a deep breath, trying to clear the tight feeling in his chest. He didn’t want to start crying—not here, not in front of his teacher. 

“I don’t know. I’m just so worried about Geralt and he’s having such a hard time. I feel like I need to be there for him.” 

“Even at the expense of your own health?” 

“It’s not like that,” he stammered, suddenly worried about his teacher judging Geralt unfairly. “He’s not being selfish. He isn’t making me stay with him or anything, but I just worry about him so much. I feel awful leaving him by himself when he’s so sick and I worry about something happening to him.” 

His teacher nodded. 

“But I didn’t get any schoolwork done this weekend because I was taking care of him, and now I’m worried I’m going to fall behind, and exams are coming up,” he was rambling now. He needed to stop and breathe. 

“I just want so badly to sleep.” 

Despite his best efforts, he was crying now. The tears began to run down his face and his breath caught in his throat. 

His voice teacher offered him a box of tissues. 

“I feel so selfish worrying about things like missing class when he’s so miserable. Like, he’s in real pain, and I’m crying about forgetting my music.” 

He put down his tea so he could wipe the tears from his face with the sleeve of Geralt’s shirt. 

“I want to be there for him, but things are starting to slip through the cracks. I don’t know what to do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> poor jask  
> t minus two hours till my spanish midterm. this is a good use of my time


	25. Chapter 25

Geralt tried to get back to sleep after Jaskier left, wanting to be awake when he got back so they could spend some time together, but after half an hour of trying he gave up. His head hurt too badly, and as soon as he got comfortable under his blanket, he’d get too hot, and once he took his blanket off he’d start to shiver. He wanted to get frustrated, but he just didn’t have the energy. He decided instead to call Vesemir. 

Geralt didn’t know his parents, but Vesemir had been a father figure for him and his adopted brothers, Eskel and Lambert, since he was a teen. 

Geralt dialed. 

It was the middle of the day, but Vesemir still picked up. 

“Hey Wolf, I haven’t heard from you in awhile. What’s going on?” 

“Hi, Vesemir, I don’t want to worry you, but I figured I should still call.” 

“Well that’s one way to start a phone call. Is everything alright?” 

“Yeah,” Geralt assured him, “it sounds worse than it is.” He wasn’t really sure how to tell Vesemir what had happened, somehow hoping he’d just know from hearing his voice over the phone.

“Well, out with it. It can’t be that bad.”

“I broke my nose,” he admitted, “playing rugby.” 

“Aww, well that’s just some bad luck, isn’t it?” 

That was just the beginning of his bad luck. 

“I have to have surgery to fix it,” he left a long pause before finishing the sentence, “but they’re waiting to operate until I’m over the flu.” 

“Oh, Wolf,” he sighed, “that really is just awful luck.” 

The sympathy warmed Geralt’s heart. 

“How are you doing? Are you feeling okay?” 

He was tempted to say he was fine, and play off the situation as not that bad, but he really was enjoying Vesemir’s sympathy. And after all he’d been through in the past three days, didn’t he deserve to complain a little?

“Honestly?” he said. “I feel awful.” 

He then went on to recount all of the events of the weekend. 

“Sounds like you’re having a pretty terrible time,” Vesemir said. “Are you in that apartment all by yourself? Because I worry—”

Geralt interrupted him. 

“I’m not by myself, Jaskier’s with me,” he explained, “well, he’s in class right now, but he stayed with me all weekend.” 

“Still,” Vesemir said, “I hate to think of you having to fend for yourself. It sounds like you’re pretty sick. Have you talked to Eskel? I’m sure he’d be happy to come down and stay with you for a few days.” 

“I don’t want to be an inconvenience,” Geralt said. 

“Nonsense, Geralt. There’s no shame in asking for a little help.” 

Geralt had nothing to say to this. He knew there was no shame in asking for help, but that didn’t make it any easier. 

“Do you want me to call him for you?” Vesemir asked. 

“You don’t have to do that.” 

“It’s no trouble, Wolf. I’ll call you back once I talk to Eskel alright?” 

Before he could argue any further, Vesemir ended the call.

It was nice talking to Vesemir, but he felt bad thinking he might have unintentionally damned Eskel to a trip down to Geralt’s university to stay with him in his tiny apartment. 

He debated texting Eskel himself to tell him to ignore whatever Vesemir told him, but by the time he figured out what to say his phone was ringing. Vesemir again. 

“Hey, Vesemir.” 

“I talked to Eskel,” Vesemir started, “he says he can get time off work to come down and stay with you for a few days.” 

Just as he said this, Geralt’s apartment door opened, revealing a frazzled Jaskier. His eyes were rimmed red and he looked utterly exhausted. Geralt was immediately concerned. 

He beckoned him over to the couch, sitting up and making a space for Jaskier next to him. Jaskier came over to him and laid down, resting his head on top of the blanket on Geralt’s lap.

He played with Jaskier’s hair absentmindedly while Vesemir continued to talk. 

“Eskel says he’d be more than happy to come stay with you,” Vesemir said. “He just got off work. He should be there around five.” 

There was no talking them out of it now. 

“Thank you Vesemir. I really appreciate it.” 

***

Jaskier was happy to lay and let Geralt comfort him while he talked on the phone. 

He sat up once Geralt ended the call though, his curiosity beating out his desire to lay down. 

“Who was that?” he asked. 

“Vesemir,” Geralt replied. “He’s sending Eskel down for a few days, he’ll be here in a couple of hours. 

Jaskier had never met any of Geralt’s family, but he’d heard plenty about them. Eskel wasn’t much older than Geralt, but he’d opted to not go to University, instead choosing to become an EMT. Really, it was perfect. He’d know much better than Jaskier how to take care of Geralt, and maybe this way Jaskier could finally get some homework done. Geralt didn’t look pleased though. Maybe there was something about the family dynamic Jaskier was missing. 

“What’s wrong? You don’t seem happy about Eskel coming. Do you not want to see him?” 

“No,” Geralt replied. “I’m glad Eskel is coming, and I’m glad you’ll be able to take a break and finally go home. It just felt like Vesemir thought I couldn’t take care of myself, and that’s why he called Eskel. I’m an adult now. I should be able to manage on my own, but as soon as he learned something was wrong he was so quick to find somebody to come watch over me like I’m still a child.” 

“It’s not like that,” Jaskier assured him. “It doesn’t matter if you’re fifteen or fifty, nobody should have to take care of themselves in a situation like this. It’s not that we think you can’t manage on your own, it’s because we love you enough to not want you to have to.” 

“Really?” Geralt asked. 

“Really.” Jaskier replied. “Vesemir didn’t call Eskel because he thought you needed a babysitter. He called because he wanted to make sure the only thing you have to worry about is resting and getting better.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How the hell has it been 25 chapters??? What's even happened in this story? I genuinely don't know.  
> Shit man.  
> I'll get to the point someday.  
> On the bright side. Eskel!


	26. Chapter 26

Eskel was early. He arrived just as Jaskier was leaving to get to his five o’clock choir rehearsal. There wasn’t time for proper introductions, but Jaskier was able to shake his hand and let him know he would bring dinner back to Geralt’s apartment after he finished rehearsal at six thirty. 

It wasn’t much of a first impression, but Eskel seemed friendly enough, and Jaskier looked forward to meeting him properly once he got back. 

As he left the apartment, Jaskier was overcome by a feeling of relief. Geralt was taken care of. He no longer needed to worry about something bad happening to him while he was gone. He would be able to sleep tonight, in his own bed, for more than an hour at a time. 

He felt tension which he didn’t know he’d been holding melt from his shoulders and neck. It was as if a huge weight had been lifted off him. He couldn’t be more grateful. 

He’d hoped these feelings of relief and happiness would be enough to carry him through this rehearsal, but they weren’t quite strong enough to cancel out the fatigue. 

By the time the nearly two hour long rehearsal ended, his feet hurt and his back ached, and there was a steadily growing pain behind his eyes which was getting harder and harder to ignore. It was okay though. All of this could be solved by a good night’s sleep. 

He picked up a pizza on his way back to Geralt’s, deciding he’d eat dinner with him and Eskel and then go home for the night and hopefully be in bed before ten. 

He’d been so tired and preoccupied with rehearsal he didn’t have time to think about it much, but as he drove across town he was struck by the fact that this was the first time he’d ever be hanging out with someone from Geralt’s family. What if Eskel didn’t like him? What if they didn’t get along?

He took a few deep breaths. Geralt would be there with him. Geralt never had anything but good things to say about Eskel, and Jaskier trusted his judgment wholeheartedly. 

He walked into the apartment to find Geralt sprawled out on the couch, dozing, and Eskel sitting on the floor. The TV was on, but neither of them seemed to be paying attention to it. Eskel looked up when he entered, but Geralt continued to sleep. 

“Exciting evening?” Jaskier asked, putting the pizza down on the kitchen counter. 

Eskel got up and grabbed a slice. 

“Definitely. He’s been passed out since you left,” Eskel said, motioning to Geralt with his slice of pizza before taking a bite. “This is delicious, thank you.” 

“Of course.” Jaskier was still nervous to be around Eskel, especially since Geralt was asleep, but his hunger was currently winning over his nerves. He grabbed a slice too. 

“How was your class?” Eskel asked. 

Smalltalk. Jaskier was great at smalltalk. 

“Rehearsal, actually,” Jaskier answered. He slid the pizza over so he could hop up onto the counter. Geralt really needed to get some more furniture. 

“Oh yeah, Geralt said you were studying music.” 

Jaskier was taken aback. He wasn’t sure why, but the thought of Geralt telling his brothers about him felt strange. 

“What are you rehearsing for?” 

“Just the term concert,” Jaskier replied. “It’s in a couple of weeks.” 

They went back and forth like this for a while, eating most of the pizza and chatting about Jaskier’s school and Eskel’s work. It was nothing too deep, but it was nice. 

“So what do you plan on doing after you graduate?” 

Before he got a chance to answer, Geralt spoke. 

“Jaskier?” Geralt rasped from the couch. He craned his neck so he could see him. 

“Hi, love. How are you feeling?” 

“I’m doing okay.” 

He looked happy to see Jaskier, but otherwise still pretty sick. 

“Do you want a piece of pizza?” Eskel asked. 

Geralt shook his head. “I’m not hungry.” 

“I worry you’re subsisting on crackers and juice, my dear.” 

“You worry too much,” he chided. It might be more compelling if he didn’t immediately start coughing. 

Jaskier went to go over to him, but hopping off of the counter triggered a wave of dizziness. He worried for a moment his legs might go out underneath him. 

Eskel grabbed his arm, steadying him. 

“Are you alright?” 

“Yeah,” Jaskier brushed him off. “Just stood up too fast.” 

He walked over to the couch, the dizziness fading with each step. 

He knelt next to Geralt, putting a hand on his forehead, hoping the fever might have broken. To his great dismay, it still raged on. 

“I think you’ll feel better if you eat something,” Jaskier said, for what felt like the hundredth time. “I need to head home, but I’m sure Eskel would fix you whatever you feel like eating.” 

“I’ll be alright. I promise,” Geralt said, unconvincingly. 

“I know you will,” Jaskier said, “it’s just that you don’t look too good.” 

This earned him a smile. 

“You’re too kind to me, Jask.” 

“I know.” 

Jaskier kissed him on the forehead. 

“Sleep well okay? I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

Another smile. 

“Alright, love.” 

As Jaskier stood up to leave, another wave of dizziness came over him and he stumbled. Eskel walked over to him again, looking concerned. 

“You’re not looking too great either, Jaskier,” he said. “Are you feeling okay?” 

Jaskier chuckled, but he was taken aback by Eskel’s tone. He sounded genuinely concerned. 

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just a little short on sleep.” 

Eskel put a hand on his forehead. A little strange, but Jaskier put it down to his EMT instincts. 

He seemed satisfied with Jaskier’s temperature. 

“You feel alright to me,” he said, “but you’ve definitely been exposed to the flu virus.” 

Jaskier was well aware of this. He’d spent the last couple of days willing himself to stay healthy, but he knew there was a good chance he’d end up sick too. 

“Make sure to stay hydrated,” Eskel instructed. “Don’t skip any meals, and get as much sleep as you can.” 

Jaskier nodded. 

“I’ll call you if anything happens with Geralt.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you all had a nice Valentine's Day:)   
> If you had nobody to love on, feel free to take solace in the fact that I didn't either, and we can all live vicariously through Geralt and Jaskier together<3


	27. Chapter 27

Once Jaskier was out of the door, Eskel walked back over to where Geralt still laid on the couch. 

“I think your boyfriend had a point, Geralt. When was the last time you ate some real food?” 

How long had it been? The half a sandwich after the rugby game was pretty long ago now that he thought about it. He’d been pretty happy with his juice and crackers, but apparently he couldn’t exist like this forever. His body was yet again betraying him. 

“I don’t know, Eskel,” he answered, exasperated. 

“Well, looks like it’s about time then.” 

Geralt groaned. 

“I’ll just throw up,” he insisted, not eager to relive the salt water scenario he’d gone through the day before. 

“You know, that’s a risk I’m willing to take,” Eskel replied. 

“Oh is it?” Geralt looked up at him, incredulous. He missed Jaskier already. 

“I mean, I could take you to A&E and have them put you on a feeding tube.” 

“You’re bluffing.” 

“Do you really want to find out?” 

Geralt glared at him. 

“You’re a lot meaner than Jaskier,” he said. But there was no real anger behind his words. He understood that as an EMT and his brother, Eskel was just doing his job. 

Eskel smiled. 

“I know.” He patted Geralt on the back and stood up, walking over to the kitchen. “How does soup sound?”

Nothing sounded good right now, but he figured soup would do well enough. 

“Fine,” he conceded. 

“I can make something else if you want,” he offered. 

“No, soup is fine.” 

It was done in a matter of minutes. Eskel brought it over with the remainder of the pack of crackers. 

“I know you don’t feel well, but Jaskier is right. You’ll feel better once you’ve got some food in you. Then if we could just get that fever down, you might not be in such bad shape.”

“I know. I’m just really tired of throwing up.” 

Eskel sat down on the coffee table and Geralt sat up to accept the bowl of soup, so they were eye to eye. 

“Are you not able to keep down anything?” he asked. “Or is it just when your nose is bleeding?” 

He’d dropped his brotherly tone and adopted his more serious EMT bedside manner. 

“Just with the blood,” Geralt answered. 

Eskel nodded. 

“You should be okay with the soup then. And if you start to feel nauseous then you can stop.” 

“Okay.” 

“I just worry about your blood sugar dropping,” Eskel said. “You’re miserable now, but imagine how much worse you’d feel if you passed out in the bathroom and smacked your head on the counter.” Just like that, the brotherly joking was back. “Knocked your teeth out, gave yourself a concussion.” 

“I know, I know.”

“So Jaskier,” Eskel said, changing the subject. 

“What about Jaskier?” Geralt asked, suddenly worried Eskel didn’t like him. He regretted being asleep for most of their first meeting. 

“He seems nice. We talked for a bit while you slept.” 

Geralt nodded, taking a bite of the soup. Jaskier was nice. He was very nice. 

“So you two really like each other, huh,” Eskel observed. 

Geralt grinned. That was understating it. 

“How long has it been now?” 

“Two years as of December.” Geralt smiled just thinking about it. He also realized how overdue Eskel and Jaskier’s meeting was. This had been sort of unavoidable though. Geralt hadn’t meant to keep them apart, but it had happened nonetheless. 

Jaskier had been out since he was a teen, but when they started dating during their first year of university Geralt had still been deep in the closet. Geralt was ready to commit to a relationship with Jaskier, but he feared after the initial infatuation ended Jaskier would get tired of dating someone who wasn’t ready to come out. To his everlasting credit, Jaskier had been incredibly patient, and had stuck with him for almost a year and a half until he was ready to come out publicly. 

Even after he’d done this, he didn’t come out to his family until he went home for the summer, since he wanted to do it in person, and he only really visited for the summer and for Christmas. 

He’d met Jaskier’s family during December of their third year, right around their two year anniversary, when they came to watch Jaskier perform. They’d then both gone to their respective hometowns for Christmas. Since then, neither of them had been home, so Jaskier hadn’t had the chance yet to meet Lambert, Vesemir, or Eskel. They’d been planning to spend a couple weeks together at Vesemir’s this summer, but this whole broken nose flu situation had bumped up his meeting with Eskel by a month or two. 

“Wow, it’s been that long,” Eskel said, pulling him from his introspection. “Are you two planning on moving in together?” 

This was a conversation he and Jaskier had been through many times before. They both agreed they’d like to live together, but it wasn’t logical right now with the way each of their living situations were set up. 

“We’re thinking maybe next year,” Geralt answered. “I’ve got a pretty good deal on the rent for this place though, and the landlord says there’s only one person allowed to live here. Jaskier’s got a pretty nice place with the couple of roommates he’s had since his first year.” He took small bites of soup between his explanations. “Neither of us are too eager to give up what we’ve got. We figure we’ve got plenty of time to live together,” he said. “He still stays over quite a bit though.” 

Eskel looked surprised. Geralt couldn’t blame him. For someone who’d only been aware of the relationship for a few months, it might seem that they’d gotten pretty serious pretty fast.

“So you two are in for the long haul then?” It sounded like more of a statement than a question. 

Geralt grinned, nodding. 

“Definitely,” he said. “I’m going to marry that boy.” 

Eskel’s jaw dropped. 

“Really?” 

Geralt nodded again. 

“Probably not anytime soon. We both have another year of school, maybe more for Jaskier, and I need to save up for a ring, but yeah. I can’t imagine being with anybody else. I want to spend the rest of my life with him.”

Eskel was smiling now too. 

“He’s my soulmate.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little backstory never hurt anybody:)  
> Just so y'all know, I'm having a bit of a rough time rn, nothing to worry about, but updates probably won't be as regular here for a little bit.  
> <3


	28. Chapter 28

When Jaskier woke on Tuesday morning feeling absolutely drained he told himself it was just a lasting effect from his lack of sleep over the past three nights. 

He had class at eleven on Tuesdays, and usually he’d get up before class and shower or eat breakfast, but today he woke up with barely enough time to get dressed and leave. 

He was tempted to skip class and go back to bed, but he really couldn’t afford to do this so close to finals, and going back to bed now would be admitting he was feeling ill, which he wasn’t ready to do yet. He was still holding out hope he was simply worn out. 

He made it through his first class alright, but by mid afternoon, after both of his classes for the day were over, he couldn’t deny it any longer. His head ached fiercely, his throat was sore and he was exhausted and feverish. And if this wasn’t enough, the cough which had taken a hold of his chest a few hours after he woke up would have let him know. Jaskier had caught Geralt’s flu. 

He sulked the entire walk back to his apartment. He felt like shit, and he really didn’t have time to be sick right now. 

He’d been planning on stopping by Geralt’s after he finished with school for the day, but now he couldn’t imagine doing anything but going back to bed. 

His mood continued to sour as he finished the short walk home. Realizing what the next few days had in store for him made him so frustrated he wanted to cry. At least Geralt had Eskel staying with him, so all he had to worry about was taking care of his own sick self. 

When he got home he trudged up to his bedroom, making himself put on pajamas before he got in bed because he knew once he laid down he wouldn’t want to get up again for several hours at least. Once he was as comfortable as he could be in bed, he dialed Geralt. He wanted to let him know he wouldn’t be over for a few days, but he also wanted somebody to commiserate with him—to wallow in their shared misfortune. 

“Hello?” Geralt’s voice was still barely there and painfully raspy. Jaskier hoped that wouldn’t happen to him. 

“Hey, Geralt,” Jaskier responded, trying his best not to sound too upset, after all, Geralt still had it way worse than he did. 

Despite his efforts, Geralt still caught on. 

“What’s wrong, love?” he asked. “Is everything alright?” 

“I have the flu,” Jaskier admitted. “I feel awful. I thought I was just tired, but now I’m running a fever and I’ve got a cough, and.” He didn’t want to keep complaining, so he took a deep breath and regrouped. “I just wanted to tell you I won’t be coming over for a few days. I mean, unless Eskel has to leave and you need something.” He was rambling now. 

“No it’s fine,” Geralt assured him. “Don’t worry about me.” 

“Okay,” Jaskier replied, feeling very small. 

“I’m really sorry Jask. If it weren’t for me—,” 

Jaskier sighed. “It’s not your fault. I don’t want you to feel bad about this.”

He knew this was a lot to ask. Geralt was right; he probably wouldn’t have the flu right now if not for him, but Jaskier didn’t regret anything. Even if he’d known for certain going in that staying and taking care of him would give him the flu, he would have done it anyway. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t be a little bit upset about it. 

***   
“I don’t need any apologies Geralt. I just want you. Can you just be here on the phone with me for a little while?” 

It was hard not to feel at fault, but if Jaskier wanted him to move on from that then he would. 

“Of course I can, love.” 

“How was your day today? Are you feeling better?” 

Not really, but Jaskier didn’t need to hear that. 

“I slept a little better last night,” he said. 

This was true. The coughing had still kept him up, but it hadn’t gotten bad enough that he had to go sit on the bathroom floor. He’d been able to spend the whole night in bed, which was a significant improvement. 

“I had a pretty bad nosebleed earlier today, but Eskel was a big help.” 

“Yeah? And what did he think of that?” 

As if summoned by his name, Eskel walked into the room. He’d been taking a shower, but now he sat down on the floor next to the couch. 

“I think he thought I was being whiny when I described what the past few days were like. It was pretty satisfying to see the worry on his face when I started coughing up blood.” 

“Geralt! That’s a terrible thing to say.” Jaskier admonished. 

“I know, I know, but if I can’t laugh about it I’ll just be upset, and I’m tired of being upset.” 

“That’s fair enough I guess,” Jaskier conceded. “How’s the fever?” he asked, changing the subject. 

“Better I think.”

Eskel looked up at him. 

“Who are you lying to on the phone?” He asked. 

“Jaskier,” Geralt answered, “and I’m not lying. You should have seen how high it was before.” 

“Oh, Jaskier. How’s he doing? He didn’t look too good when he left last night, I was worried about him.” 

“He’s got the flu,” Geralt answered. 

Eskel sat up a little straighter, turning around to face Geralt. 

“I knew it! Tell him I called it.” 

“I’m not going to tell him you called it. I doubt that will make him feel any better.” 

He could hear Jaskier chuckling through the phone. 

“Is he doing alright? What are his symptoms?” Eskel asked. 

“Is it okay if I put you on speaker, Jask? Eskel has a question for you.” 

“That’s fine,” Jaskier answered. Geralt could hear the smile in his voice. 

He switched the call to speakerphone. 

“Alright, go ahead.” 

“Jaskier, it’s Eskel. How are you feeling?” 

“I’m doing okay,” Jaskier answered. “Mostly just dead tired.” 

Eskel nodded, seeming to forget Jaskier couldn’t see him. 

“What kind of symptoms are you having?” 

Geralt swatted at his shoulder half heartedly. 

“You’re too nosy.” 

Eskel looked back at him. “Be quiet and let me do my job.” 

He wanted to tell Eskel bothering his boyfriend wasn’t his job, but on the offhand chance Jaskier might need some advice he remained silent. 

“Nothing too bad,” Jaskier replied. “Low fever, sore throat, cough, headache.” 

“Alright, well you don’t have a broken nose to contend with, so you can drink tea to help soothe the cough and the sore throat. Some paracetamol might get rid of the headache, but your best bet is keeping hydrated and getting lots of sleep.” 

“Yeah,” Jaskier agreed. 

“And if you need anything just let me know, and I can stop by okay?” 

“I will, thank you.” 

Geralt took the phone off speaker and brought it back up to his ear. 

“I feel bad. I had you to take care of me, but you haven’t got anybody to take care of you.” 

“Don’t feel bad,” Jaskier said. “I’ve got my roommates here if anything goes wrong, and anyway, I think you’ve got it a lot worse than I do.” 

“Still.” 

“All you need to worry about is getting yourself feeling better. I’ll manage fine on my own.” 

“Okay.” 

This was followed by a long pause. 

“I love you.” 

“I love you too, Geralt. I’ll see you soon.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Our poor boys. What kind of sadist would torture them like this?


	29. Chapter 29

After he finished talking on the phone with Geralt, Jaskier laid on his back and stared at the ceiling. 

The past few days it had been one thing after another with little to no respite in between. Now his body was forcing him to take a break and he was bored. Jaskier had never been one to stop moving for long, always occupied by either school, or Geralt, or his fairly busy social life. He was happy to fill his calendar to the brim, so he always had something to do. His mind felt best when he was busy. His body, however, didn’t always feel the same. It always seemed to find a way to tell him when he was pushing himself too far, and force him to stop and rest and take care of himself for a little while. 

Often it was migraines, which could successfully knock him out for a whole day, sometimes two, but now it was the flu. He could be out for a week. No, he refused to accept that. He’d be back on his feet in a few days. The illness didn’t seem to be manifesting quite so violently in him as it did in Geralt. If he listened to his body, and took Eskel’s advice, hopefully he’d be up and going again before the weekend. 

What could he do to help that happen? At the moment it seemed like not much. He had a water bottle already by his bed, and he was drinking it dutifully. He wanted to sleep, but it was the middle of the afternoon, and he knew if he held out a few more hours until late evening he might be able to sleep through the night. Right now, the thing his body needed most was food. 

He wasn’t the least bit hungry, but he hadn’t eaten all day, and he knew if he put it off for too much longer he would start to feel nauseous. Then he really wouldn’t want to eat. 

This was good, he thought to himself, trying to convince himself getting out of bed wasn’t a horrible mistake. If he went downstairs to get food, he’d also be able to make himself some tea, which Eskel had advised. Hopefully this way he could spare his throat from the horrible raspiness which had stolen Geralt’s voice.

He put on a sweatshirt and a thick pair of socks to combat the chills which hit him as soon as he wasn’t curled up underneath his covers, and headed downstairs. 

He’d hoped to be able to mope around the kitchen in solitude, but of course the reality of living with three roommates was that one of them was always home. He ran into Ezra who was milling about the kitchen, leaning against the counter and looking at their phone. They looked up when Jaskier entered. 

“Hey, Jaskier. I didn’t know you were home,” they greeted him, their eyes lighting up momentarily before they finished taking in his appearance. 

“Are you feeling okay? You don’t look too good.” 

Jaskier chuckled. 

“So I’ve been told.” 

“Is everything alright?” 

“Yeah,” Jaskier assured them, wanting to keep the tone light. “I’m a little under the weather, but I’ll pull through.” 

“Oh yeah,” Ezra said, as if remembering something. “Doesn’t Geralt have the flu? Did you catch it from him?” 

Jaskier nodded. 

“Tough luck,” Ezra commiserated. “I heard that was going around.” 

“It got about a quarter of the rugby team,” Jaskier said. “That’s where Geralt got it, and then I got it from him.” 

Ezra shook their head. 

“That’s no fun.” 

No fun indeed. 

“Well did you need anything?” They asked. “I was planning on staying in tonight, but I can run to the store if there was anything you needed.” 

“Thanks, Ezra,” Jaskier said, “but I think I’m set. I was just down here to make some food and some tea before I went back to bed.” 

“I was just going to fix some food too, and work on some homework. I can make you something too if you want to go lay on the couch or something.” 

This warmed Jaskier’s heart.

“You’re too nice to me.” 

“Really, it’s no trouble. You look exhausted.” 

“I can’t ask you to make food for me.” 

“Don’t be stupid. I was already going to make something,” they insisted. 

“Are you sure?” He asked. 

“Definitely.”

Jaskier gave him a tired smile. 

“Thank you so much.” 

“Of course.” Ezra smiled back. 

“If you want to put on a show or something we can eat together before you go back to bed. I mean, unless you’re too tired,” they suggested. 

“No, that sounds perfect.”

Jaskier then went and curled up in the corner of the couch, grabbing the remote and flipping through Netflix, trying to find something both he and Ezra would like. 

Jaskier had known Ezra since they were both fourteen. They’d remained friends since then, and when it came time to go to university, they’d moved in together with two of their other classmates. Ezra had always been easygoing and kind, and times like these reminded Jaskier how lucky he was to have such a thoughtful friend. 

And after spending all weekend tending to Geralt, it was refreshing to have somebody to tend to him. 

Jaskier loved taking care of his boyfriend, and he’d been glad to be able to do it, but there was something nice about being able to relax and let someone else do the work for a little while. 

“Is ramen okay?” Ezra called from the kitchen. 

“That sounds wonderful,” Jaskier called back.

The two of them spent the next few hours sitting together in the living room, eating noodles and drinking tea, rewatching a show they’d both been fans of as teenagers. 

Ezra dutifully worked on schoolwork, and Jaskier half heartedly studied his music theory notecards. His brain wasn’t at its best, but having something to work on made him less stressed about losing all this time being sick. 

Physically, he still felt pretty terrible, but with the help of Ezra, he’d been able to make an environment for himself which was both mentally and emotionally manageable. It helped considerably, and for that he was incredibly grateful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not sure if y’all know this, but this story has been affected so heavily by your input. I don’t outline my fics, so a huge amount of this one has just been me reacting and going along with the things you comment about or predict.   
> Just so you know, it’s been a team effort! And I’m having a really good time. I hope y’all are as well:)


	30. Chapter 30

Jaskier was having a terrible time. Between the persistent headaches, fever, sore throat, and cough, he was unable to do much more than lay in bed. 

He missed Geralt. 

Neither of them had much spare energy, and both of them spent a lot of the day napping, so phone calls were few and far between. They texted back and forth quite a bit, but Jaskier felt bad complaining when Geralt was so much worse off than he was, so Jaskier kept most of his negative emotions inside. Needless to say this wasn’t doing any favors for his mental health. 

He hated spending so much time by himself. His roommates came and went, and the phone calls with Geralt were definitely nice, but it wasn’t enough. He still spent hours at a time completely alone, laying in bed, scrolling on his phone, and feeling sorry for himself. Jaskier was a highly social creature, and all of this time being alone with his thoughts was starting to have some serious negative effects. By Wednesday night, the only thing keeping him going was knowing that if he didn’t take care of himself this flu would last even longer. 

So he made himself eat, and kept his water bottle full, but mostly Jaskier slept, hoping each time he would wake up feeling a little less sick than when he’d fallen asleep. 

Despite his desire to do nothing but sleep, tried his best to limit his napping during the afternoon and evening so he could sleep through the night, but after two nights he wasn’t having much luck. Unlike Geralt, it wasn’t the coughing which kept him up, but the fever dreams. Jaskier was normally a fairly vivid dreamer, and his fever was escalating this to a highly uncomfortable degree. 

It all reached a peak on Thursday night. 

In his dream he was back at Geralt’s apartment. At first it wasn’t much different than what it had been like when Jaskier had been staying with Geralt before he got sick. 

Geralt was leaning over the sink, blood dripping from his nose. It was nothing to be too worried about to begin with, but with each passing second the situation escalated. The bleeding increased until it was pouring down Geralt’s face, the red blood standing out against his chalk white skin. 

Jaskier hovered over him, unsure of what he could do to help. Eskel was nowhere to be found, and Geralt’s nosebleed was reaching dangerous levels. He began to cough, the blood splattering everywhere, droplets covering the sink, the counter, and the mirror. Jaskier tried to speak, to tell Geralt to breathe, but his voice caught in his throat. There was nothing he could do. 

He couldn’t do anything but watch as Geralt continued to bleed, getting paler and paler. This only lasted for a minute or two until Geralt’s body could handle it no longer. He fainted, his head hitting the bathroom floor with a sickening crack. His eyes rolled into the back of his head, his face nearly as pale as the whites of his eyes, and even though he was no longer awake, his nose continued to bleed. Jaskier couldn’t move fast enough. He tried to roll Geralt on to his side, but by the time Jaskier managed to move his heavy frame the blood had already reached his lungs. He aspirated it, his breath catching before stopping completely. 

Jaskier spent the rest of the dream trying desperately to resuscitate him. 

It ended just as Geralt’s heart stopped beating. 

Jaskier woke in a cold sweat. He scrambled to untangle himself from his blankets so he could sit up. His heart was beating far too quickly and he could already feel the tears forming in his eyes. 

He tried to calm himself down and take deep breaths, but the dream had been too similar to what he’d already seen, too close to what might happen. What if it already had? What if Eskel was too caught up in the death of his brother to call him? 

He picked up his phone from his bedside table to make sure he didn’t have any missed calls or messages. The time read one thirty and the last time he’d heard from Geralt was six. 

Even though the dream was over, his anxiety was only growing. 

He spent a full ten minutes trying to calm himself down. He drank water, tried to regulate his breathing and get his heart rate down, but it was no use. He was well on the way to a full on anxiety attack. It wasn’t going to get any better until he knew Geralt was okay. 

He was just about to call when he was overcome by a fit of coughing. It made everything so much worse. He was already having trouble getting enough air into his lungs between the panicking and the crying, and the coughing made him genuinely feel like he might suffocate. Not only did it hurt him physically, but it conjured up images of Geralt coughing, Geralt bleeding, Geralt suffocating, Geralt dying. 

He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t calm down. He couldn’t think. 

He grabbed his phone, dialing Geralt before he’d even regained the ability to speak, desperate to hear his boyfriend’s voice. 

“Jaskier?” 

It wasn’t Geralt. 

“Is everything okay?” Eskel asked. 

No. Everything was awful. The anxiety was wrapping around his ribcage, stealing the breath from his lungs. His chest hurt, and he still couldn’t manage to get enough oxygen into his lungs to get rid of the terrible drowning feeling. 

“Jaskier?” Eskel repeated, sounding worried. 

“Is Geralt there?” he asked. 

Tears still ran down his face. His breath came in short gasps. He was sure Eskel could hear it. 

“His nose is bleeding at the moment, but he’s okay.” Eskel said. 

Jaskier could tell he was keeping his voice calm for Jaskier’s sake. 

“Are you alright Jaskier? What’s going on?” 

Even through the forced calmness, he could hear Eskel’s concern. 

“Is there any way I can talk to Geralt?” Jaskier asked, working hard to get the words about between gasps. 

He appreciated Eskel’s concern, but nothing was going to get better until he could hear Geralt’s voice. 

Jaskier needed to know he was okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I guess after all the time I've spent writing whump the universe was bound to whump me back eventually.   
> One of the kids I babysit got me sick and I had to call in to work today:(   
> At least it's not covid


	31. Chapter 31

It took a minute for Geralt to realize what was going on. He was in the bathroom, leaning over the sink with a bloody nose for what felt like the millionth time when he heard Eskel talking from the other room. At first he thought Eskel was talking to him, but after a few seconds Geralt realized he was on the phone. Who was he talking on the phone with at one in the morning?

The whole thing felt strange, but he was too wrapped up in his own problem at the moment to stress too much about Eskel’s situation. He didn’t feel any sort of anxiety until he heard Eskel’s tone. He sounded worried—even more worried than he’d sounded when Geralt’s nose had started bleeding again. 

This piqued Geralt’s curiosity, but there wasn’t much he could do; he was sort of trapped here at the sink until his nose quit bleeding. Luckily, Eskel came to him. 

“Geralt, it’s Jaskier. He really wants to talk to you.” 

His heart dropped into his stomach. What had happened? Jaskier should be asleep right now; something must have gone wrong for him to be calling Geralt in the middle of the night. 

Eskel put the phone on speaker and set it down on the counter. 

“Jaskier?” Geralt asked. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?” He did his best to speak without getting any blood down his throat, but right now he was much more concerned about Jaskier than he was about that. 

“No.” 

It only took this one word to let Geralt know what was going on. Jaskier was panicking.

“Can you tell me what happened?” If he knew why Jaskier was feeling so anxious then maybe he’d better be able to help. 

“I had a nightmare,” Jaskier said, his breath catching as he spoke. “You died. There was nothing I could do.” 

Even over the phone Geralt could tell he was breathing much too quickly. 

“I’m fine, Jaskier. I promise.” 

This was met with no reply. 

“Can you take a deep breath for me?” Geralt asked after a couple seconds of silence. 

“No,” Jaskier choked. “It hurts.” 

“What hurts?” Geralt asked. 

“My chest.” 

It was at this point that Eskel, who had been standing silently in the doorway up until this now, spoke up. 

“Okay, I’m going over there,” he said. “Where does he live?” 

This was probably a good idea. Geralt had witnessed a few of Jaskier’s anxiety attacks in the past. They could get pretty bad, and that was without the flu complicating things. 

“I’m going too,” Geralt said, reaching for the tissue box so he could stem the bleeding, which was only just now starting to abate. 

“Don’t be stupid,” Eskel said. “Tell him I’m coming and stay on the phone,” he instructed. 

Geralt followed his instructions, doing his best to comfort Jaskier over the phone as Eskel got dressed. 

“What’s his address?” Eskel asked, keys in hand. 

Geralt recited it to him, telling him which apartment was Jaskier’s, and where to park. 

“I have a key. They’re hung up by the door. His is the one with the music note sticker on it, and his room is up the stairs on the right.” 

“Alright. I’ll be back.”

“Thank you,” Geralt said, hating that there was so little he could do to help, but incredibly glad that Jaskier would be tended to. He didn’t deserve to suffer like this. 

***

Jaskier wasn’t sure if Eskel coming would make things better or worse, but if there was any chance it would help get him through this anxiety attack he would take it. 

He was shaking and each breath sent a stab of pain through his chest. He pushed himself up into a sitting position and wrapped his arms around his torso, trying to keep himself grounded. 

Geralt stayed on the phone with him until Eskel arrived, talking, reassuring him, letting him know everything was alright. It was less the things he said, and more just hearing his voice at this point. It wasn’t enough to calm him completely, but it definitely helped. 

Jaskier didn’t know what to expect from his boyfriend’s brother who he’d only met once, but from the minute Eskel entered his room, he was nothing but professional. 

Jaskier had been to the hospital for anxiety attacks time or two when he was a teen, and the steps Eskel took him through were near identical to the ones he’d been offered at A&E. They were effective. He wondered if it was something they taught medical people in school. 

“Do you feel up to talking about it?” Eskel asked, once Jaskier had gotten his breath back and calmed down. 

Jaskier took a long drink from his water bottle before answering. 

“Yeah, I think so,” he said, his voice still shaking. His whole body was still shaking, in fact, ever so slightly. 

“Mental or physical?” Eskel asked. 

Jaskier thought about that. He definitely felt like his mental health was a bigger priority at the moment, but it was also a lot more difficult to address. 

“Physical,” he answered. 

Eskel nodded. 

“On the phone you mentioned chest pain,” he began. “How is that feeling now?” 

“Fine,” Jaskier answered. 

“Can you take a couple of deep breaths for me?” 

Jaskier did as he was told, and just as he’d said, there was no pain. 

“I think it was just the panic,” he offered. 

Jaskier knew Eskel and Geralt weren’t related by blood, but he couldn’t help but notice how they had the same kindness behind their eyes. Even though Jaskier had spent barely any time with him, he felt completely at ease. 

“What about the other flu symptoms? How are those feeling?” 

Jaskier had to think about it for a second. 

“My head hurts, and my throat, but no worse than it has been for the past day or so.” 

“Can I check your temperature?” He asked. 

Jaskier nodded. 

“There’s a thermometer on the counter in the bathroom,” he said, motioning to the door on the far side of his small room. 

When it beeped a minute later, it told Eskel that Jaskier definitely had a fever, but not one so high he should be concerned. 

“Well I don’t think there’s anything to worry about physically,” he said. “Do you want to talk about anything else? ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eskel to the rescue


	32. Chapter 32

If someone had told Jaskier a week ago that after spending less than three hours with him, Jaskier would be telling his boyfriend’s brother about his mental health struggles, he wouldn’t have believed them. They were something he kept to himself for the most part. Most of his friends didn’t know he had anxiety, and he’d even hesitated to tell Geralt until they’d been dating for several months. 

Right now though, maybe it was the tiredness, or the fever lowering his inhibitions, but something about Eskel’s personality made Jaskier feel completely at ease opening up to him. 

That being said, he still wasn’t eager to talk about this most recent anxiety attack—he hated reliving them, and would much rather just to his best to forget and move on— but everything about the way Eskel had reacted, and the kindness and patience he was showing Jaskier now made him think getting some advice from Eskel could really help him. 

“Usually I’m better about stopping them before they get out of hand like this. I just think between the fever and how I was panicking before I was fully awake, I was too far gone to sort of self regulate by the time I was aware of what was happening.” 

Eskel nodded sympathetically. 

“So you have a lot of experience with anxiety attacks?” he asked. 

“Yeah. I used to get them pretty often before university. I had to go to A&E a few times, but I’ve gotten a lot better at handling them since then,” he explained.

“Have you ever talked to a professional about them?” Eskel asked, no trace of judgment in his voice. 

“Back before university,” Jaskier answered. “I saw a therapist on a regular basis, but I stopped going after I moved here.” 

Eskel seemed to think about this. 

“But I’m a lot better than I was back then,” Jaskier hurried to reassure him. “Really, it rarely ever gets bad like this anymore. I don’t think I’ve had one this bad in probably a year and a half.”

“That’s good, Jaskier,” Eskel said, “but do you find yourself having to talk yourself down from panicking on a regular basis, still?” 

He thought back to just this past week alone. He’d had to calm himself down to keep from panicking at least twice, but this week had been much more stressful than most. 

Eskel spoke up again when Jaskier took a few long moments to consider this. 

“We don’t need to have this conversation now,” he said. “I know you’re probably tired.” 

Jaskier shook his head. “No, it’s fine. I was just thinking,” he said. “Yeah, I guess I do.” 

“It’s really great that you have this coping mechanism, but I think if you wanted to see a therapist again, they might be able to help address the root cause. It might make things easier in the long run.” 

Jaskier remembered talking about this a little bit with his last therapist, but back then the focus had been more on coping with the anxiety attacks rather than addressing the root cause. 

Eskel put a hand on his shoulder. 

“I’m not here to tell you what you should or shouldn’t do, but if you want, I can help you find someone around here you can meet with.” 

Jaskier brightened up a bit at this. He hadn’t considered going back to therapy, but Eskel had a point. He thought about how nice it would be not to expend so much energy regulating his anxiety. 

“That would be amazing, actually. You’d do that?” 

Eskel smiled. 

“Of course,” he said. “You might be able to find someone through student health at your university, but usually those services are fairly limited—more short term. If you want, I can put my number in your phone and we could talk about this sometime when it isn’t the middle of the night.” 

Jaskier reached out to grab his phone from the bedside table. 

“That would be great, Eskel. Thank you so much, for everything.” 

“Of course,” he repeated as he typed his number into Jaskier’s contacts. “Do you want me to stay here a little bit longer, or do you think you can get some sleep.” 

Jaskier could feel the tiredness behind his eyes again. When he’d first woken up from the nightmare he was sure it would take hours to relax enough to sleep again, but Eskel had done his job well. Jaskier thought if he tried, he could be out in a matter of minutes. 

“I think I’m ready to sleep,” he answered.

“Perfect.” Eskel handed his phone back. “If you need anything, just call, okay?” 

“I will.” 

***

When Eskel arrived back at Geralt’s apartment it was almost three in the morning. He fully expected, or at least hoped, Geralt would be asleep in bed, but he walked in to find his brother curled up in the corner of the couch, very obviously fighting sleep. He looked up as soon as Eskel entered, as if he’d been waiting for him. 

“What’s up?” Eskel asked. “Why aren’t you sleeping? Is everything alright?” He prayed nothing was wrong. He was running very low on energy at the moment. 

Geralt shifted so he was in a more upright position, blinking as if trying to clear the tiredness from his eyes. 

“Yeah, everything is fine. I just wanted to make sure everything was okay with Jaskier before I went to bed.” 

Eskel shook his head. 

“You have no faith in me.” 

“What? No. I didn’t mean,” Geralt stammered. 

“I’m kidding,” Eskel said. “Jaskier’s feeling a lot better. I was able to help him calm down and then we chatted for a bit. He was getting ready to go back to sleep when I left, just like you should be doing right now,” he scolded. “Now get up. I want to sleep too.” He shooed Geralt off the couch, serious about wanting to sleep. 

Geralt obliged, giving up both the couch and the blanket. 

“How’s the nosebleed?” Eskel asked before Geralt had the chance to go back to his room. 

“Fine,” Geralt answered. “It stopped a few minutes after you left.” 

“And how about now? Any lingering pain or nausea or anything else I should worry about?” 

“I was a little nauseous for a while, but I think it’s mostly passed by now.” 

“Perfect, now go to bed. No more emergencies until eleven am at least,” Eskel said, stretching out as much as he could on the small couch, trying to find a comfortable sleeping position and closing his eyes. 

Geralt let out a tired laugh. 

“I’ll do my best.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh Eskel


	33. Author’s Note

Hey y’all . I think I’m going to take a break from writing for a week or two. I’m not really sure at the moment for how long, I just know that i need to take a step back.   
I don’t think I’m putting up chapters for the right reason any more and it’s reflecting in the quality of my work. I’ve felt like this for awhile now. I want to give you guys quality content and I just don’t think I’m doing that at the moment.   
I’ve loved writing this story, and I am so grateful for all of you who read and comment, truly it means so much to me. But I just don’t feel good about the quality of my work lately, and you all deserve better.  
I’ll be back in a bit, but for now I think I just need to stop for a moment and collect my thoughts and make sure that these stories are of the quality you all deserve going forward.


End file.
